WIZARDS DUEL
by monkeymouse
Summary: It's the 5th year--Harry and Cho Chang finally get together--and that's just the beginning...
1. A Year Begins

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.1: A Year Begins  
  
The Ravenclaw Quidditch team ran into the changing room at the Hogwarts stadium. What had been an excellent set of drills had been cut short by a sudden autumn cloudburst.  
  
"Nothing to worry about," said Roger Davies, the captain of the team. "It's as good a workout as we've had so far this year."  
  
"Yes, but will it be enough?" Jameson Bridgewick asked. It was his first year on a Hogwarts Quidditch team, but for a second-year student he was a natural Beater. "We've got this crazy thing in the spring…"  
  
"Don't worry about that," Davies said as he wrung the rain out of his blue robes. "If we keep on like a well-oiled machine, Dumbledore will have to play us all."  
  
"He's not serious, is he? Put together one team from all four Houses?"  
  
"Well, he wants to win this international school competition they've dreamed up. So do I, but I want Ravenclaw to win it. All of us!" The rest of the team cheered, as well as they could while toweling off their heads. "With no help from Gryffindor, or Harry the Almighty Potter!"  
  
This brought a fresh round of muffled cheers. Some of the players started pulling off the wet jerseys that had gotten soaked, even under their playing robes.  
  
They were stopped by the sound of someone clearing her throat. Cho Chang, a sixth-year at Hogwarts, and Ravenclaw's Seeker—Ravenclaw's only female player, in fact—wanted to get their attention before they'd removed any more clothing.  
  
"Sorry, Cho," Bridgewick muttered. "We keep forgetting."  
  
Cho smiled. "Well, I'm sure if I pulled my shirt off in front of you, you'd remember I was a girl quick enough." A couple of the players chuckled in embarrassment. "So would you mind awfully going to the changing room next door? I'm soaked to the skin too, you know."  
  
The others picked up their sodden robes and went into the next room. Cho locked the door after them, then turned and leaned against the door. A quick wave of her wand, and all her clothes were dry.  
  
She looked around the empty changing room and said, to absolutely nobody there, "I thought they'd never leave!"  
  
A few feet away from her, the air shimmered as a Cloak of Invisibility was removed. There stood Harry Potter, fifth-year student and Gryffindor Seeker. "You really wouldn't have done that, would you?"  
  
"Done what?"  
  
"Pulled your shirt off in front of that lot?"  
  
Cho walked over to Harry, still smiling. "Of course not. A waste of perfectly good…" Harry silenced her with a kiss on the mouth, which she eagerly returned. They held that kiss for the better part of two minutes. When they finally broke for air, they pulled apart, only to find that Harry's glasses were now on Cho's nose.  
  
They both laughed, not caring who might be next door to overhear. They were with each other again. These moments came so seldom, and made them the happiest they'd ever been in their lives.  
  
***  
  
It had really started September 1, on Platform 9¾ at King's Cross. Harry was getting ready for his fifth year, and was just about to move his bags and his owl Hedwig onto the train when he caught sight of Cho Chang. She was one year ahead of him, and in a different House at Hogwarts. But what struck Harry was her face. It was the same as the last time he saw it in the spring: looking as if she wanted to die.  
  
It was because of what had happened at the Triwizard Tournament. He and Cedric Diggory, who was on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, had made it through the maze and touched the prize Goblet at the same moment—only to be teleported straight into the arms of Lord Voldemort, newly restored to life. Voldemort killed Cedric, and would have done the same to Harry if the spell hadn't backfired.  
  
None of this made any difference to Cho. She had gotten close to Cedric. After he had been chosen Champion for Hogwarts, he had asked her to the Yule Ball. She accepted, being both gladdened that he would choose her and a bit disappointed that the one she really cared about didn't seem to think she was anything special. With Cedric dead in so horrible a fashion, and the other boy still not saying anything to her, Cho turned into a lost soul for the rest of the term, walking about sullenly or bursting into tears at a moment's notice.  
  
This image haunted Harry. The fact is, he had noticed Cho two years earlier, but could never seem to find the right time, or the right words, to tell her so. They faced each other on the Quidditch field as Seekers, but off the field, they were in different years, and in different houses. Besides, she was just so, well, pretty…  
  
Harry thought about all this again as he sat in his usual compartment with his usual companions—Ron Weasley, Ron's kid sister Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. It was a tight fit, especially with the animals, but Harry hardly noticed, hardly joined in the conversation, and went through the motions of playing Exploding Snap with Ron. About two hours into the trip, he'd had enough. He stood up, interrupting Hermione in the middle of a sentence, and walked out of the compartment and up the corridor.  
  
He didn't know where she'd be, but he looked in every compartment until he found her. Cho Chang was sitting with some friends two cars down. They were talking to her; she hardly seemed to notice them. Without even knocking he flung open the door and announced, "Excuse me, Cho, but I have to talk to you now. Alone."  
  
"OOOOOOHH!!" chorused the other girls. Cho just sat there, dead to the world. They left as Harry closed the compartment door and the curtains. He sat across from Cho.  
  
"Cho, I…" Harry suddenly forgot almost everything he was going to say. Her eyes, red and puffy from long bouts of crying over the summer, seemed to be accusing him. This made Harry defensive. "Dammit, Cho, I never meant any of that to happen! I didn't want to enter the Tournament in the first place! I can't help it if Voldemort was after me."  
  
"That's right," she said, in a dispirited voice that still had the ghost of a sharp edge to it. "Your whole life revolves around Voldemort. That's what they call you, isn't it—The Boy Who Lived? What does that make Cedric—The Boy Who Died? Well, why? Why did he have to die? Why didn't you just go off and fight with Voldemort and leave Cedric out of it!" Sobbing overwhelmed her again, and she turned her face away from his.  
  
This wasn't going the way Harry had thought, but he had to press on. He took one of her hands in his. "Believe me, Cho, if I could change places with Cedric I'd do it today. Right up until the minute we Ported out of the maze I…well, I envied him. And not for his grades, or his good looks, or anything like that. It was because of you." Cho turned, looking into Harry's face as he went on. "You two were always together, and you seemed to be so happy, and I…I could never tell you how much I …I love you." As he spoke, tears started forming behind Harry's glasses. "I…I never felt like that before, not ever, not for anyone. And I guess I felt then what you're feeling now. Maybe that was my only chance at love, and it would never come again…" Harry couldn't go on.  
  
Cho stared at him, as if she'd not seen anything like his tears before. Tentatively she reached up, gingerly touching one with a fingertip.  
  
An instant later, they moved as one, wrapping their arms around each other, beyond speech, letting their tears come. Then, when the tears finally stopped, they moved without even thinking about it, first with their lips brushing against each other, then hungrily pressed together. They held that first kiss for over a minute, before, by some kind of mutual signal neither really understood, they separated, staring into each other's eyes.  
  
Cho spoke first, barely above a whisper. "It was always you, you know."  
  
"What was?"  
  
"All that time I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to say something, do something. I asked you for directions to places I already knew how to find. I gave back quills you never dropped. I wanted you to give me a reason to tell you I love you."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"I mean, I cared for Cedric too. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But I kept waiting and waiting for you to see me, see what I was feeling."  
  
Harry got flustered. "Well…I…how was I supposed to know? I've never felt anything like this before."  
  
"Nor have I. So, what do we do now?"  
  
"I dunno. I mean, I…I guess I'll…"  
  
"HAVE SOMETHING OFF THE CART IN THERE?!" It was the old witch who pushed the snacks cart up and down the train. Harry and Cho looked at each other, the spell broken for the moment, and started to laugh. They were still laughing when Harry opened the compartment door—and a dozen students looked in at the two of them from the corridor. The others let up a chorus of howls. Cho and Harry saw only each other's eyes.  
  
…to be continued… 


	2. Everybody's Business

WIZARDS DUEL, part 2  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.2: Everybody's Business  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
It didn't take long for word to get all over Hogwarts that Harry and Cho seemed to be a couple. Nobody took the news harder than Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"POTTER! MY OFFICE! NOW!!"  
  
Harry was in the Gryffindor Common Room when the voice of the Assistant Headmistress cut right through the portrait of the fat lady. It was his first evening back, after the Sorting of the new first-years. He'd had a good dinner and he'd already unpacked and was stretching out in front of the fireplace. He still wasn't used to the long train trip. But when he heard the voice, he jumped up and ran to the corridor.  
  
McGonagall wasn't even there, but he heard the click of her heels along the corridor. He really wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but McGonagall was in charge of Gryffindor House, and her word was law.  
  
By the time he reached her office door, she was already inside and had left the door ajar—very unlike her. He stuck his head in. She was already seated behind her large desk.  
  
"Inside. Shut it. Sit."  
  
He'd never seen her act like this before—as if saying a complete sentence would cause her to explode. He took a seat and waited. He waited for three minutes before she spoke again.  
  
"Potter, what were you thinking?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About you and Miss Chang."  
  
Is that what this was all about? "I just … felt sorry for her. She seemed so sad all the time since Cedric Diggory died. And I … I guess I wasn't really thinking…"  
  
"Too right, you weren't thinking!" McGonagall was on her feet and pacing now. "Or had you forgotten that you're both Seekers!"  
  
"Seekers? This is—about Quidditch?!"  
  
"It's about Quidditch, and about a great deal more besides. It's not my place to tell you this, but you leave me no choice. Before dinner this evening—IF you can remember back that far—Professor Dumbledore mentioned something about "the Quidditch teams being put through some extra paces this year", to make up for missing out last year because of the Tournament. We're still waiting for final approval from the Ministry, but I may as well tell you now. In the spring, Quidditch teams will be coming to Hogwarts from wizarding schools all over the world. You'll be going up against players from the Continent, from the Far East, even from America." McGonagall shuddered at that thought. "We'll be having our usual matches, but—understand this well, Potter—the winning team will NOT automatically earn the right to represent Hogwarts."  
  
Harry was still taking in the news about Hogwarts hosting students from all over the world—but then his mind leaped ahead. He realized exactly what McGonagall was talking about. "Then, who will?"  
  
"The Hogwarts team will be chosen from the best the school has to offer. Regardless of House."  
  
Harry's stomach felt as if all the good food he'd put away had just turned into lumps of coal. "So who's going to choose it?"  
  
"A faculty committee chaired by Madam Hooch. Needless to say, those of us who represent the Houses are not on the committee.  
  
"Do you understand now, Potter? If you wish to … cultivate a friendship with Miss Chang, neither I nor the school can stop you. But, not only will your House be competing against hers for the school championship, you two will also be competing against each other for the position of Seeker on the Hogwarts team. For now, I'm going to have to trust you to play the game properly. However, be assured that I will keep my eye on you. If I see any indication that you might be holding back to do her a favour, or that the two of you have worked something out beforehand, I'll have no choice but to take it to the Headmaster, and suspend you from the team until it's sorted out. You know that I'd hate to do that, but you must also know that I have the authority and won't hesitate to use it."  
  
"Well, what makes you think I can't just play the way I've always done?"  
  
"What makes you think that you can—especially if it's against Ravenclaw?"  
  
Harry started to answer, then realized that she was right. He had no idea what would happen in a match between their two houses. Finally, he sighed and looked up at McGonagall. "But I love her, Professor. What should I do?"  
  
McGonagall sat behind her desk and wearily rubbed her eyes. "That, poor boy, is your problem to solve. Go back to your House now." Harry got up and left the office.  
  
Harry walked through the corridors much more slowly than when he'd been summoned. On the train, he'd thought that this would be the best day of his life, and now it was shaping up as the worst.  
  
As he neared the Gryffindor entrance, he saw Parvati Patil coming from the other direction—from Ravenclaw, where her twin sister Padma lived. Parvati had just given the password—"Simmered eels"—when he had an idea. "Parvati! Wait!"  
  
She held the portrait open for him. "No. I mean, have you got a minute?"  
  
"What is it, then?"  
  
"Well, your sister's in Ravenclaw, and you can't get in to see her, can you?"  
  
"Well, officially not."  
  
"Well, let's say you two wanted to chat a bit, unofficially. How would you do it?"  
  
Her vibrant brown eyes narrowed slightly. "This is about Cho Chang, isn't it?"  
  
Harry's jaw dropped. "You know?"  
  
She couldn't keep herself from giggling. "Harry, it was all over the train before we arrived."  
  
"Still, what would you do?"  
  
"Excuse me!" the fat lady in the portrait interrupted angrily. "I don't mind you holding me open to talk for minutes on end, but now you're talking about how to evade security, and I'd rather not be a party to that."  
  
"Come on, Harry." They went into the Common Room. It was almost deserted. "First of all, if you were thinking of giving me notes to give to Padma so she could give them to Cho, forget it. We're not messengers. Second, I don't know of any secret passages between here and Ravenclaw, so don't ask. I suppose you two could work out a direct owl to carry messages from House to House. Beyond that, you're on your own. But this is a big castle; lots of places to hide. Padma and I used to meet a lot in our first year, when we were really homesick. We used the South Tower; you might want to take a look at that."  
  
Things had been very cloudy since he was summoned to McGonagall's office; now the clouds were parting and the sun shone again. "Thanks, Parvati. I really owe you one."  
  
"Don't thank me; I'm happy for you, really, but I don't want to know about you two. It's like you're consorting with the enemy."  
  
Harry's jaw fell open again. "I just went through all that with McGonagall. How did you know?"  
  
Parvati chuckled, then kissed him on the cheek. "You'd better get used to being the last to know," she smiled, and went up to her dormitory, leaving a thoroughly confused Harry Potter standing by the fireplace.  
  
…to be continued… 


	3. Owl Express

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.3: Owl Express  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
The second day back saw much more owl traffic than usual; everyone, it seemed, wanted to send a letter. Most of the letters included a sentence along the lines of: "It looks like Harry Potter's got a girlfriend, and guess what—it ISN'T Hermione Granger!"  
  
Hermione was working in the library on her own letter—between homework assignments—but never seemed to write down more than a few words before she gave it up, tore up the scroll, and turned back to the textbooks. She had just abandoned her fourth attempt at a letter when Ron Weasley found her. For once, he too struggled with an armload of books, and he wasn't alone. Now that they were fifth-year, they had to start getting ready to take the Ordinary Wizarding Levels at the end of the year. Plus, now they were learning what Ron called "the real stuff"—Apparating, combination charms, and the next day… well, that was the mystery. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor hadn't yet arrived, had assigned no textbooks, and didn't give the slightest clue as to what lay ahead for the year.  
  
They worked on their own letters for a while before Ron lifted his head. "Hey Hermione. I'm writing Mum about Harry and Cho. Anything you want me to add?"  
  
Whatever she was writing, Hermione was no more satisfied with it than with her previous letters. She tore at the letter like a cat tearing at a mouse, before whispering harshly at Ron. "Please thank your parents again for their hospitality." Once again, Hermione had stayed with the Weasleys for a couple of weeks in the summer just before coming down to Hogwarts.  
  
"That's all?"  
  
She started noisily piling up her books. "Yes, that's all. There's nothing else to say. Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing." She hoisted the small mountain of books and walked briskly away.  
  
"Remind me to stay clear of you, then," Ron muttered as he went back to his letter.  
  
***  
  
Harry, meanwhile, lay on his bed, wanting to write his own letter, but at first couldn't think to whom. He'd spent most of last year in love with Cho Chang, and this year she finally said she loved him as well. But who would care? The Dursleys? Not a chance.  
  
It took only a minute of looking through the scrapbook of his parents' wedding pictures for the answer to present itself. He picked up a quill and started writing. Unlike Hermione, though, if Harry wrote something he didn't like, he simply lined it out and kept on writing. This meant that he used two pieces of parchment where only one was needed, but neatness was the last thing on his mind. He quickly read over the results:  
  
Dear Sirius,  
  
I hope this letter finds you well. Another year has started here, in a way I didn't expect. All last year I was in love with someone, and just yesterday she finally tells me she feels the same about me! Now that it's finally happened, I don't think I've ever felt this happy.  
  
There is one small problem, though. It's not a problem that she's in a different House, because my parents were from different Houses, if I recall correctly. But she plays for another House Quidditch team, and there's someone here who seems to think that'll be a problem.  
  
Sirius, how much do you recall of when my parents first met? Don't worry; it's not as if we want to rush right off and get married, but I would have liked to be able to talk to them about this. I know it's difficult for you, but please write back as soon as you can.  
  
Harry  
  
He sent the letter off using a school owl; he was afraid the snow-white Hedwig might attract attention, and Sirius was still a wizard in hiding. A day later, the other owl returned, empty-clawed. At first Harry was afraid something had happened to Sirius, but there was no mention of him in the Daily Prophet. Before the week was out, Harry got his answer, delivered by a peregrine falcon that upset every other bird in the Owlery:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I suppose congratulations are in order. I never had much luck in that department myself, and your father was actually one of many who set their caps on Lily Evans. They made a perfect couple, and if you and your friend find anything near the happiness your parents knew, you'll be blessed indeed.  
  
I don't have time to write much more. Things are happening, as you can imagine. Write me if anything important happens to you.  
  
Sirius  
  
"Anything important?" Harry muttered. "What's more important than this?"  
  
The same day, Ron Weasley was in the Common Room reading another letter:  
  
Dear Ron:  
  
I've already written a letter to Harry about him and his girlfriend. I'm writing to you now because I have to ask you to do something for me.  
  
As you know, I can't exactly show my face yet. What's more, there's trouble brewing over V; you probably know more about it than I do, since your father works for the Ministry. Things are going to be very uncertain with me for quite a while, regardless of what I may tell Harry in my letters.  
  
I'm asking a favour of you, man to man, for Harry's own good. I don't know who his girlfriend is or what she's like. If you think there could be a problem coming up out of this, I need to know. I also will need you to watch them, discreetly of course. There's no harm in them kissing, I suppose…  
  
(There'd better not be, Ron thought, since they've already gone that far…)  
  
…but there are other things to worry about, and we don't need Harry distracted from the important work that lies ahead.  
  
I'm trusting to your judgment. If you see them going too far out of bounds, and you don't have time to get a message to me, then don't hesitate to step in and break them up. Harry may not like it, but if he's past the point of thinking clearly, you have to do that for him. Sorry to put you in the middle of this. I'll explain it all to Harry at the first opportunity.  
  
Sirius  
  
Spy on Harry and Cho? I might have done that anyway, Ron thought, but now I've got permission! Good thing Fred and George are gone now, trying to go into business for themselves rather than stay the last year; they'd show Harry no mercy—  
  
"What's that then?"  
  
Ron jumped. His sister Ginny had taken the chair opposite his. He had no idea how long she'd been sitting there.  
  
"What does it matter?"  
  
"Just that you face kept getting redder and redder while you read it."  
  
"Oh. Well, it's … from Mum. You know how she goes on sometimes." He shoved the letter into his robes and almost ran up to his dormitory. The room was empty. He hid Sirius's letter in the bottom of a trunk. Just in case he needed it later.  
  
…to be continued… 


	4. Megan Hawksaw

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
by Monkeymouse  
  
a/k/a Patrick Drazen  
  
1.4: Megan Hawksaw  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
Classes that first week back were mostly predictable. Potions was no better than before, because Snape was acting—if that were possible—worse toward Harry than ever. He seemed to direct the toughest questions at Harry, and told him off, in great detail, if he'd made a mistake or (even worse) said "I don't know".  
  
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was oddly subdued this first week of the new term. The last time he had crossed Harry and his friends was on the train to London at the end of last term. He was positively crowing about the return of Lord Voldemort and that was bad enough, but when he made a cutting remark about the dead Cedric Diggory, he was attacked by four different spells at once. Maybe that was making him a bit gun-shy now.  
  
"THIS year we ought to stand up to Snape; he's just a…" Ron whispered to Harry as they left the class, there were still too many Slytherin students about for him to raise his voice. Snape was Head of Slytherin House and was always showing favouritism toward his students.  
  
"No. I've made up my mind. I'm not going to let him get to me this year."  
  
"But you shouldn't just sit there and take it." Ron looked at him for a second. "Is this a Cho thing, then?"  
  
The question caught Harry by surprise. "Of course not," he chuckled. "I just want to save my strength for the stuff that matters—like Quidditch."  
  
Actually, Harry wasn't being honest with Ron. After his last confrontation with Lord Voldemort, Harry was more confused than ever about where Snape's allegiances lay. The Potions Master apparently had once been a Death Eater, allied with Voldemort, and some people who had also been Death Eaters seemed to keep turning up looking for Snape. Yet he had saved Harry's life more than once, and Harry once heard him talking with Dumbledore as if Snape were on the right side. Snape had attended Hogwarts with Harry's father, and apparently Snape neither forgot nor forgave what happened back then. The one thing about Snape that wasn't a question mark to Harry: he was a mean and disagreeable wizard.  
  
Charms was another predictable class, as light and carefree as Potions was dark and depressing. That was because of the teacher. Where Severus Snape was tall, thin and menacing, Professor Flitwick was short, plump and full of happy energy. He seemed more like a child at times than like a teacher. Of course, Harry also looked at Flitwick in a new light, since he was Head of Cho's House, Ravenclaw.  
  
As they left Charms after a full session of deliberately confusing each other with Confundus charms, Ron turned to Hermione. "See you at lunch, then."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Not today. I've got things to attend to." She walked briskly on ahead of Harry and Ron…who got the distinct impression that there were curves under her robes that they hadn't noticed before…  
  
As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, it was widely known that Snape badly wanted this position, even though it seemed to be cursed. This would be the fifth teacher in as many years that Hogwarts had had: one turned out to be under the control of Lord Voldemort, one was an impostor sent by Voldemort, one was forced to resign when it was revealed that he was a werewolf, and the other was, simply, a fake. The students knew that there would be yet another teacher and that it wouldn't be Snape; if it were, they'd have been told which textbooks to buy. There was no mention of a textbook in the letter telling them about the return to Hogwarts. What they'd find this year was anybody's guess.  
  
They waited in the usual classroom. For three minutes they sat there, without a teacher. After precisely three minutes, though, the door flew open and the teacher briskly marched to the front of the class.  
  
She was the last thing any of them expected. She looked to be about the same age as their parents—in her thirties. Under her robes—which had been severely cut back so that now it looked more like a long vest—she wore a blue blazer, matching knee-length skirt and white ruffled blouse. Harry thought she looked like one of the ladies who read the news on television.  
  
Except for her glasses. The first thing Harry thought of was the fog lights on an automobile; these glasses were tinted yellow and had that kind of glass with ridges that he'd seen as fog lamps on expensive sports cars. He wondered how she could even see the students; these glasses certainly made it impossible for him to see her eyes.  
  
"Right, kiddies. My name is Megan Hawksaw. Call me Professor, call me Megan, call me what you damn well please."  
  
The class was stunned; none of their professors had ever acted or sounded like THIS. She seemed to know this.  
  
"I expect I'm not your usual kind of teacher. Well, I'll be frank with you. This class isn't going to be about all that "if you please Sir or Ma'am" Old School la-de-da. We don't have time for that." She stepped away from the front of the class and walked up and down the aisles as she talked. "And I didn't assign any books because you're not going to need to know what kind of spells were cast four hundred years ago, or how to block them. We don't have time for spells or beasties or anything you've been taught up to now.  
  
"These are different times, and they're confused times. Unless you've been asleep the last few years, you know that better than anyone. There's a war going on out there," she gestured toward the room's only window, "a war against a supreme practitioner of the Dark Arts, and this school's been one of the battlefields."  
  
She seemed to stop and look at Harry—although Harry couldn't be sure, what with her odd carriage-lamp glasses. But he knew she told the truth. He'd been in the thick of the fight from the day he arrived. Earlier, in fact—and he had the scar to prove it.  
  
"Some of you may have heard what happened at last year's World Quidditch Cup," Hawksaw continued. "A few of the supporters of the late, unlamented Lord Voldemort started toying with some local Muggles. Believe me, you'll see a lot less of that in the future. The enemy is subtler. The enemy is not going to make a big attack until after there's been a series of little attacks. And those little attacks will not happen until they lay the groundwork. And they're laying it right here."  
  
The students glanced around the room at each other, half-expecting that some of them would reveal themselves to be ogres—or worse. "I am here to help you prepare mentally to cope with the long, hard war that is coming. And the first thing you have to learn is to trust no one. Now, you may think you know someone who's earned that trust. But you can't be sure who's on which side. And you can't be sure who's maybe playing both sides of the game at once. If you choose to trust someone and you make the wrong choice, then you may lose more than just the game. Safest bet is this: trust nobody."  
  
Hermione's hand went up. Harry hadn't seen such a look of skepticism on her face since she walked out on Divination. "Does that mean that we shouldn't trust the teachers then…yourself included?"  
  
Every head turned. For Hermione, this was tantamount to a declaration of war.  
  
Megan Hawksaw simply folded her arms across her chest. "Clever girl. That's the logical flaw in my argument, you think? Well, I've got a secret for you." She suddenly bent down, sticking her face an inch from Hermione's. "You're right." She walked back to the board. "If we start from the assumption that you cannot completely trust anyone, then that includes your teachers as well. If you don't know for a certainty, and you can never know someone else for a certainty, then you're better off not trusting.  
  
"And for those of you who are of an age, you may think my words don't apply to you because you're in love." She pronounced those last three words with such contempt that everyone in the class felt a little sick to their stomachs. "You think you've found that one person on earth who will never betray you, that you can tell all your secrets to." Harry had to look away from her, for his cheeks were burning like a forest fire, and his hands involuntarily clenched into fists. "But let's be honest here. Surely there's something you've kept from your beloved, or something they've kept from you. Honesty is the surest way to kill love, and don't you forget that. You can't completely trust anyone. Anyone!"  
  
The classroom had gone not only quiet but distinctly colder. Some girls had been almost reduced to tears. "That's all for today. No assigned readings, but I want an essay for next time. No less than two scrolls in length, but no more than five, analyzing some battle against the Dark Powers. Only, it has to be from the Twentieth Century; nothing earlier. You may even," she added suddenly, "write about the infancy of Mister Harry Potter here." She turned to look at him; he kept his face turned away from hers. "No fair writing about yourself, Mister Potter. Dismissed."  
  
Of course, everyone was glad to be dismissed early from the last class on a Friday afternoon. But Harry was among those who grabbed up everything and sprinted toward the door. Once he was out in the corridor he stopped and leaned his back against the wall, taking deep breaths like a marathon runner after the race.  
  
Hermione and Ron were at his side at once. "That was some lecture," Ron said; "you looked like you were going to sick up in there for a minute."  
  
"As well he should," Hermione answered back hotly. "What a vile creature." She bit her tongue as Professor Hawksaw stepped out of the room and swept down the now-empty corridor. When she'd gone, Hermione started off.  
  
"So where are you going?"  
  
"The library. I want to get started on my homework before dinner. I'll catch up with you there."  
  
Harry looked after her in surprise. Ron noticed and said, "Don't tell me you didn't expect her to say that, Harry. She's never been any other way."  
  
Harry managed a smile, but his heart wasn't in it.  
  
…to be continued… 


	5. Roots

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.5: Roots  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
As he went in to supper, Harry looked over at the Ravenclaw table. Cho was in a lively discussion with some other girls. But she had been keeping one eye on the door, looking for him as well. When she saw him her smile broadened, she briefly held up a book she had, then went back to her conversation.  
  
"Someone sending you signals, then?" Neville Longbottom asked Harry as he sat down.  
  
"Nudge nudge wink wink," Dean Thomas added.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Hermione clucked her tongue. "Harry, you two are being rather obvious about it."  
  
"Look, I'll send you an engraved invitation when it's any of your business." He was smiling, though, as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Right now…" He stopped to think about it. "Well, this whole thing is still new to me. It's like my first day here."  
  
"That's why they have Prefects, Harry; to talk about these things. If you need to, that is."  
  
"Well, I don't need to. We're getting on fine now. That's one area where I don't need your help."  
  
Eyebrows went up. "So you DO need Hermione's help for something?" Ron asked with a grin.  
  
"I'm talking about schoolwork. Potions, actually."  
  
"I think Snape gets worse every year," Seamus Finnegan put in. "He was really gunning for you today."  
  
"That's why I need help for next time, Hermione. I'm not going to let him catch me out again. I figure the best way to shut him up is to do the work with no mistakes."  
  
"Well, that's admirable, Harry. You're finally taking something seriously here. But that won't help if he's set his mind against you."  
  
"At least I'll get a bit of my own back."  
  
"Fine, then. Did you want to start tonight?"  
  
"Er, not really. There's, er, some other work I have to do…"  
  
Everyone (except Hermione) smirked at Harry. Hermione simply started gathering up her books. "Suit yourself. Anyway, I'm still working on my own project. Talk to you later." She was up and off toward the library again.  
  
Harry was also about to leave when Angelina Johnson walked up to him. She was a seventh-year and a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It was the only team at Hogwarts, in fact, with all-girl Chasers. She seemed to have grown a bit taller over the summer. "Got a minute Harry?"  
  
"Sure. What's up?"  
  
"There's a team meeting Monday night in the Common Room. We've got to come up with new players and elect a Captain."  
  
Ron leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and doing a spot-on imitation of the Divination teacher, Sybill Trelawney. "I foresee that Gryffindor will have a really tough year. I blame it on Saturn mucking about with Neptune." That broke up everyone in earshot—even Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who practically worshipped Professor Trelawney.  
  
"No excuses, Harry," Angelina finally said. "We really need you there."  
  
"Don't worry, Angelina. I'll be there."  
  
She gave him a look as if to say, "I'm going to remind you again anyway." Then she was off back to Gryffindor, while Harry went to the library.  
  
When he got there, he took a quick look around. Most students avoided the library on a Friday night, but he saw Hermione at a table near the door. Whatever she was working on must have been interesting; she didn't look up at him. Harry went to the back stacks and set his own books down near the International Magic section. No sooner had he gone into the stacks when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned; it was Cho, with a radiant smile on her face. They hadn't been together since the Hogwarts Express, so they just stood there for a minute, holding each other.  
  
When they sat down at a table, he reached out for her hand. "Sorry," he chuckled, "it's like I never want to let you go."  
  
"I know the feeling," she smiled back. "But it'll be a bit inconvenient." She gave his hand a squeeze, then pulled hers back. "What are you studying?"  
  
"We have to write an essay for Dark Arts."  
  
"So do we. What do you think of this Professor Hawksaw?"  
  
"There's something about her; I really hate even being in a room with her."  
  
Cho let out a deep sigh. "I thought it was just me. She was going on about how you can't trust anybody, and how even the people you love will keep secrets from you. Some of the sixth-years were nodding their heads like they believed every word of it."  
  
Harry felt his stomach churn. He couldn't help but think of the secrets he had to keep from Cho. But there was a good reason: people's lives were at stake—people he cared about. Still, he put on a smiling face. "Well, let's not worry about her now. What are you working on?"  
  
"International Magic. I'm writing about Chinese wizards."  
  
"That should be easy, at least."  
  
"Because I'm Chinese? Hardly. I was born in the West End. I've never been to China. My parents are from there, but that's all."  
  
"Must have been strange for them, coming to a big place like London."  
  
Cho almost laughed. "What do you mean, strange? They have lots of big cities in China."  
  
"Sorry. But it occurs to me, I don't know a thing about you, or your history."  
  
"Hardly fair, is it, since the rest of us know all about yours? I've even had relatives back in China send me owls, asking if I've met "Ha Li Po Te"". She chuckled as she took Harry's hand. "If they could see me now, eh?"  
  
"So, where was your family from?"  
  
"Wait here." Cho ducked into the stacks and came back with a large book. She turned the pages to a map of China. "We've always lived in this part, called the Northern Plain, near the Yellow River. My mother's mother was a village shaman; a priestess. She's still with us: we call her Granny Li. When she was old enough, she moved to this city here, Zhengzhou. It was already as big as London. She met my grandfather there. He was a circus acrobat, but he wasn't working just then. The government frowned on that sort of thing. Anyhow, they got married and had my mother.  
  
"They thought he might be able to find work easier in a smaller town, so they all followed the Yellow River to the coast, to Qing-dao. It used to be spelled Tsing-Tao, and the Muggles still make a pretty popular beer by that name."  
  
"Funny. I don't think of beer as Chinese."  
  
"Well, some Germans opened a brewery there a century ago, and it's still in business. Anyway, they were just getting by when my mother met and married my father. My grandfather died just after the wedding. It set Granny Li's health back a bit. At the same time, the government was cracking down on witches again, and the family decided to just leave China and come here. A cousin helped them set up a shop just off of Diagon Alley. At first they sold imports and antiques; then they started a chemist's shop. My father knows a lot of the old traditional medicines; between the two shops, they've done pretty well.  
  
"Anyway, I arrived not long after they got to London. And that's really all there is to tell. Nothing special."  
  
"I guess you knew all about Hogwarts before you got here."  
  
"Of course. They weren't about to send me all the way to China for school."  
  
"They have wizarding schools there, then?"  
  
"Very few and very hard to find. For a time, being a witch there was taking your life in your hands."  
  
They were interrupted by the voice of Irma Pince, the librarian, in a nearby aisle: "What are you doing lurking about there?" Harry saw someone moving quickly down the aisle—someone with a familiar thatch of red hair. Was that Ron—or his sister Ginny? They'd both want to spy on him, for different reasons.  
  
He turned back to Cho. "Look, why don't we continue this Sunday afternoon? I can get us a basket of food and we can make a picnic out of it."  
  
"Sounds fab; I haven't done that in years. How will you manage that?"  
  
"Truth is, I know one of the kitchen elves."  
  
"That must come in handy," Cho smiled.  
  
"Not really; I usually don't ask him for favours. I guess I've been saving it up for something special."  
  
Again, he reached across and took her hand in his. Then, without a word being spoken, they had the same idea at the same time—they stood up and kissed, holding onto each other as if they were afraid to let go.  
  
When it was over, Harry caught his breath. "So; meet you on the stone steps at one o'clock?"  
  
"Better make it one-thirty. There's a House Quidditch meeting Sunday at one."  
  
"I can hardly wait."  
  
"Nor can I." With a quick peck on the cheek, Cho slipped into the library stacks. Harry gathered his books and started toward the door. As he left, he saw Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy's girlfriend in Slytherin, sitting at one of the tables. She was glaring at Harry as if she meant to kill him then and there.  
  
Harry had never taken Pansy seriously before; she was always just another of Draco's gang. But now he found himself thinking that, if she ever lay a finger on Cho, a Dementor's Kiss wouldn't be punishment enough.  
  
…to be continued…  
  
__________  
  
NOTE: "Ha Li Po Te" is the name given to "Harry Potter" in the Chinese translations. And yes, as you may know, there really is a Tsing-tao Beer. 


	6. A Place in the Sun

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.6: A Place in the Sun  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
Sunday dawned as fine and fair as anyone could have wished. Harry ate hardly anything, then waited until just after lunch to sneak behind the still-life and into the kitchen. The house-elves were clearing away the dishes. Some of them had never seen Harry before and started to raise an alarm, but old Dobby, who Harry had rescued from Lucius Malfoy's employment, stepped forward at once.  
  
"You don't be sayin' nothin' against Mister Harry Potter," the elf squeaked. "A great friend to us all, maybe the greatest friend we has, is Mister Harry Potter."  
  
Harry tried to silence him, which wasn't easy. "All I want is a picnic lunch for two people."  
  
He almost didn't get away with one, as one elf or another kept trying to put very un-picnic-like food into the basket, from a kettle of soup to a blancmange as big as a pillow. Finally, he limited them to chicken legs, sandwiches, fresh fruit and flasks of pumpkin juice. Promising to send down some spare clothing at the first opportunity, he went to the front door of the castle.  
  
No sooner was he on the steps than he saw Cho Chang walking across the lawn toward him, a rolled-up blanket slung over her shoulder. They met on the steps, kissed, then walked to the picnic spot, all without saying a word.  
  
They spread the blanket out under a willow tree (not one of the Whomping variety) on the opposite side of the lake from the Forbidden Forest. The temperature was perfect, the breeze was mild, the giant squid was relaxing at the shore a few yards away. Everything was ideal.  
  
About an hour after they arrived at the spot, comfortably settled with most of the food gone, they were looking across the lake, as well as at each other. They had spent the hour saying very little, about very little of importance. Now, Harry asked Cho about the other classes she was taking.  
  
"I think the worst of it, apart from that monstrous Professor Hawksaw, is going to be Transfiguration."  
  
"What's wrong with that? McGonagall is tough but fair."  
  
"What's wrong is that she wants us all to take turns trying to change ourselves into animals."  
  
Harry looked puzzled. "So what's the problem?"  
  
"She'll ask me to change, and I won't."  
  
"You can do it, Cho; you can do just about anything."  
  
"No, I didn't say I couldn't do it. She will ask me, and I'll refuse."  
  
"But why do that?"  
  
"I know I can change things into other things. But I won't change myself into an animal. You know how some people are afraid of high places, or crowds? My fear is of turning into an animal, and being stuck like that."  
  
"Yeah, I can imagine."  
  
"So can I, and I don't like what I see. It's just too awful to bear; imagine being stuck inside a strange body, unable to call for help in any way, maybe stuck that way for the rest of your life, having to survive and you don't know how…" Cho was shivering as if it was the dead of winter. She was staring into the lake, and seemed to have forgotten Harry was there. He touched her shoulder; she seemed to wake up, then threw her arms around Harry. "Hold me."  
  
"Cho, it's all right."  
  
"I'm so frightened. Hold me."  
  
"I'm here, Cho. I'm right here."  
  
They sat there for five minutes, Harry gently stroking Cho's raven-black hair, until her trembling subsided. Finally, she drew a deep breath. "That's so embarrassing. I didn't want you to see that."  
  
"It doesn't matter to me. I acted the same way when the Dementors were here a couple of years ago. Fainted dead away, in fact."  
  
"But Dementors are supposed to inspire fear in others. This is my own fear, and I ought to be able to control it. Haven't you ever worried about it?"  
  
"Being an Animagus? Well, no. My father was one, you see."  
  
"Really? But doesn't the Ministry regulate them?"  
  
"Well, he never officially registered as an Animagus. He'd learned it … just as a lark." Once again, Harry stopped himself from telling Cho the whole truth: that his father and two other classmates became Animagi to bring help and comfort to a fellow student bitten by a werewolf. One of those other students, Sirius Black, was still the subject of a nationwide manhunt; for he had been accused of following Lord Voldemort and, in doing so, had killed the other student, Peter Pettigrew.  
  
Only the truth wasn't like that at all. Pettigrew had been the traitor, killing a streetful of Muggles and leaving Sirius to take the blame. Still, without Pettigrew's word, nobody would believe that Pettigrew wasn't a martyr or that Sirius Black wasn't a fiend. In fact, Sirius had been Harry's godfather, and a close friend of James and Lily Potter before they were murdered.  
  
Cho was shaking her head. "It's hard to imagine someone wanting to turn into an animal for fun. What kind of animal was he, do you know?"  
  
"Well, yes, he … er, had pictures taken." Again, he lied to Cho. There were no pictures. Harry had found out from Sirius himself. But he was still an escaped convict, so Harry couldn't admit to knowing Sirius. "My father was a great stag, with a large set of silvery horns."  
  
"You sound impressed. I should like to have seen him."  
  
"I wish we both could have met him."  
  
"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't want you to remember sad things."  
  
"Well, I don't want you to think about fearful things either."  
  
They sat under the tree, still holding onto each other, communicating in that wordless way that comes with new love or a lengthy marriage. As the sun began to set behind the western hills, they picked everything up and walked back to Hogwarts.  
  
"By the way," Harry said, trying to sound casual, "how did the Quidditch meeting go?"  
  
"Well, first of all, you're an utter rat for bringing that up now," Cho laughed. "All I'm going to tell you is that we've recruited some new players, and I think we'll be pretty strong."  
  
"That's the team, though; how about you?"  
  
They stopped at the foot of the stone steps. "Harry, I'll be the first to say it: you're the best Seeker Hogwarts has got. Better than I've been, better than Cedric was, and let's not even talk about Malfoy. And I love you with all my heart." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "But Gryffindor plays Ravenclaw in the first game of the season, and if you want to win, you're going to have to work for it." With that, she dashed up the stone steps, laughing, leaving Harry with a chuckle on his lips but a worried look behind his glasses.  
  
…to be continued… 


	7. Teamwork

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.7: Teamwork  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
Harry left dinner early the next night, sprinting back to Gryffindor and the Quidditch team meeting. He knew that this was going to be a critical meeting.  
  
"Doing a bit of jogging, eh? That's what they call it, is that right—jogging?" Harry found that the Gryffindor ghost Sir Nicholas de Mimsey Porpington, was running alongside him. Except that "running" wasn't a precise description. "Nearly Headless Nick" was moving his legs right enough, but they weren't touching the stone floor. Instead, he floated six inches above it.  
  
Harry tried to take no notice of the ghost. When they turned one corner, though, Harry ran right past a first-year, and Nearly Headless Nick ran right through him. The first-year stared at the ghost, then fainted.  
  
"They're growing 'em delicate these days," the ghost muttered. "Just not like it used to be."  
  
They had arrived at the painting of the fat lady. Harry stopped, but Nick's momentum kept him going through the wall. He just had time for a quick wave of his handkerchief before he was gone.  
  
"Steamed eels."  
  
"Wrong," the fat lady said, preening herself. "That was last week."  
  
"Oh, right. Er, "Lord Randall"."  
  
The picture swung open, a bit reluctantly, and Harry went into the Common Room and threw himself into an easy chair.  
  
The others were already there. In this case, the others were three seventh- year girls: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. They were the three Chasers, responsible for handling the Quaffle. They were also the only all-girl set of Chasers at Hogwarts. None of the other Chasers showed them any consideration because they were girls, and they didn't show any in return. At more than one game, Harry found himself glad that he was the Seeker, because being a Chaser could be so physically demanding—risky as being a Beater, in fact.  
  
Angelina stood up, her caramel-colored skin set off by the sky-blue robes of her favorite professional Quidditch team, the Tutshill Tornados. "Harry, before we get started, there's something we have to clear up. Our first game this year is against Ravenclaw. Frankly, we've been wondering how you're going to feel about that."  
  
Harry felt a headache coming on. He'd expected a question like this from the team, but it bothered him just the same. He had an answer ready. "I seem to recall the three of you played your usual game against Hufflepuff, in spite of whether you thought Cedric was cute."  
  
"That's a low blow, Harry," Katie protested. "He's dead and all. Besides, he wasn't a Chaser."  
  
"That's not what he meant, I'm sure," Alicia Spinnet interrupted. Oddly enough for such an aggressive Chaser, off the field she was always the peacemaker in any argument. "It's just that we all get a little, er, blinded occasionally."  
  
"Oh, he can see Cho Chang right enough," Angelina countered. "I just want to know if it'll make a difference."  
  
"No, it won't, and I'm not blind," Harry replied testily. "She's already told me that she won't go easy on me in the match, so I don't intend to go easy on her."  
  
Angelina looked dissatisfied, but apparently decided not to make an issue of it. "Right. Now, since the last games, we've lost our Keeper to graduation and our two Beaters to, well, whatever the Weasley twins are up to. I've already interviewed some replacements and sent their names along to Madam Hooch."  
  
This caught the others by surprise. "When did you do that?" Katie asked.  
  
"Last year, during the Tournament. We didn't have anything else to do, and I knew this day was coming. I didn't want to just stand around and watch the grass grow."  
  
The others nodded. Harry stood up. "When Oliver graduated, we also lost our team captain. I think maybe Angelina should take that spot."  
  
"Why not yourself?" Alicia asked.  
  
"Because the first I ever heard of Quidditch was when I arrived at Hogwarts. I don't know the history or the strategy—not enough to be team captain, at any rate. That should go to someone who can think like a captain."  
  
The others nodded in agreement. "How about it?" Katie asked.  
  
"Right," Angelina said, a little nervously. She obviously hadn't expected this. "Well, I mean, it's an honour, and I'll do my best. Anyway, we'll meet back here next Monday night; we should have our new players approved by then."  
  
Harry got up to go to his room. As he passed by Angelina, she said softly, "It was good of you to make that speech, Harry, but it doesn't change anything. I'm still keeping my eye on you."  
  
Harry started to get angry, but held it in check. "If you feel you must," he replied, then went up to his room. As he threw himself on his bed, he recalled that Angelina was one of those students who paid close attention to the words of Madam Hawksaw.  
  
…to be continued… 


	8. It's a Family Affair

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.8: It's a Family Affair  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
Life at Hogwarts settled into a routine. There seemed to be more and harder coursework than ever before, between that and Quidditch practice, Harry and Cho didn't have much time to see each other.  
  
Two or three evenings during the week, they would meet among the hundreds of stacks in the library, always in the International Magic section. They'd begin and end the same way each time, hugging each other and kissing as if they'd been separated for a year instead of a couple of days. Then, whether they had homework or just chatted about nothing in particular, they'd sit at a table, holding hands. Sometimes another student would walk by—accidentally or on purpose—and some would even snicker at them. The two Seekers didn't notice, or didn't care.  
  
The weekends were for Quidditch practice—although here, too, they managed to steal some time together. Harry had his invisibility cloak that let him go to the Ravenclaw practice sessions without actually spying on them—Cho had made him promise to arrive at the end of practice. For her part, she waited outside the stadium during the Gryffindor practices. Again, they got strange looks from the teams, but weren't about to change their schedules.  
  
Which is why it was such a surprise to Harry to come down to dinner, one Friday night in the middle of October, and not see Cho at the Ravenclaw table. He stared at the table all through the meal, hardly touching any food and not even hearing Ron talk about his big brother Charlie's travels to Mexico. He and his dragon-hunting crew had found a previously unknown nest of Winged Serpentines, the only dragon species native to Central America.  
  
Harry was suddenly distracted by a movement at the door. Padma Patil, Parvati's twin sister in Ravenclaw, started to go into the Great Hall, caught sight of Harry, then turned suddenly and walked away. Harry was up and running toward the door.  
  
He caught a glimpse of Padma going out the front door. "Padma! Wait!"  
  
By the time he was through the door, Padma was halfway down the great stone steps. She heard the steps behind her, then stopped on the stairs, looking like a deflated balloon.  
  
"Is this anything to do with Cho?" Harry blurted out.  
  
Padma looked up at him. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you."  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
"She got some sort of bad news today in an owl. Been crying her eyes out, didn't go to any classes."  
  
"But, but why are you avoiding me?"  
  
"It's not my news to tell. Look, can we drop this, please?"  
  
"Is she in Ravenclaw, then?"  
  
"She did say she'd try to get to the library, but she didn't look up to it when I saw her. Please don't ask me any more." She abruptly turned and ran down the stairs.  
  
Why was there all this mystery? Harry decided to check the library first. Sure enough, she was waiting at their usual table, but made no move to stand up.  
  
Harry asked, "What's wrong?"  
  
She looked up at him; her eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying all day. "Everything," she said, hanging her head.  
  
He sat next to her. "No, you've got to tell me. What's the matter?"  
  
"Harry," she started to speak, but her voice broke. She needed a minute to compose herself. "I had to sit through another damned Hawksaw lecture yesterday. She was on again about being in love. How neither witches nor Muggles ever tell each other the whole truth."  
  
"I know. She gave us the same lecture today. She makes my skin crawl."  
  
"But . . . Oh Harry, she's right. There's something I've kept from you all this time."  
  
"Well, it can't be that important. I mean, if you haven't said anything up to now . . ."  
  
"Stop it, Harry, or I'll never be able to say it." She looked around. Nobody seemed to be eavesdropping from nearby aisles. "Harry, I'm—I'm engaged."  
  
Harry felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach. "When, when did this . . . "  
  
"When I was three."  
  
Harry couldn't help it. A laugh exploded out of him before he could stop it.  
  
"HARRY!" Cho pounded her fist on the table; tears started welling up in her eyes again.  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But it was just so-- You had me worried for a minute."  
  
"You should be. I'm not talking about a child's game. This is serious."  
  
"At three years old? How serious could it have been?"  
  
"Serious enough; our parents arranged it all. These things do still happen, you know."  
  
"Well, who is he, then?"  
  
Cho took a deep breath, and kept her gaze down toward the table. "His name is Ming-ten Tan. Of course, for school and all, everyone just called him Andrew. His parents live right next door to mine, and they're probably the strongest practitioners of Chinese magic in London. Most of the Chinese families seek them out for something or other.  
  
"That's why he's not here, in case you were wondering. His parents still don't trust what they call "Merlin magic". They wanted Andrew trained in their old traditional ways. So, when he turned eleven, he didn't go to Hogwarts. His parents sent him to a school in Japan; he'll graduate at the end of next year." She paused. "And then, he and I are supposed to be married."  
  
"But why would his parents and yours insist on that?"  
  
"They knew I was talented, and they didn't want to take a chance on my giving up the old ways. Of course, they took it all much more seriously than he or I did. Even when I left to go to Hogwarts, this whole betrothal seemed like a kids' game.  
  
"Then I got the owl today. You know that Quidditch tournament with the other schools they've been talking about? He'll be coming here in a few weeks. Something about finalizing the arrangements."  
  
"Don't tell me he plays Quidditch too!"  
  
"He doesn't, actually, but they picked him to act as team interpreter."  
  
Harry leaned back in his chair. The whole thing was still unreal to him. "So, you're going through with this?"  
  
"I don't know anymore. We had no idea what being married meant when we were growing up. He went to his school and I went to mine. And then we found each other." Cho's hand tightened around Harry's like a vise. "I know now that I can never feel the right way about him. He's a neighbour and a friend, but I could never feel like a wife toward him, or … or a lover." Cho's voice had suddenly dropped; she kept her gaze down toward the table. Harry started to sweat; did she say… was she hinting…?  
  
At that moment they heard footsteps coming quickly toward them. Cho stood up, still squeezing Harry's hand, and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll send a note," she said, before she ducked down an aisle.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione and Ron were running toward him. Even though it was a library, Hermione was almost shouting. "You've got to look at this!"  
  
Harry's head was still swimming from all that had happened. "This must be pretty important, then."  
  
"Not half!" Ron blurted out. "I think we have something on Hawksaw."  
  
Hermione dropped a large volume on the desk, which grumbled in a hundred voices when it landed. "Sorry," she said to the volume. "Harry, these are bound copies of the Daily Prophet going back five years. I decided to start further back, though, about fifteen years."  
  
"Start what?"  
  
"Looking for Professor Hawksaw. Every year the paper lists Hogwarts graduating classes. I couldn't find her name in any of them; not a one."  
  
"Maybe she went to a different school…"  
  
"We thought of that," Hermione interrupted. "The Daily Prophet lists for other schools as well, in Scotland and Ireland and Wales. She's not listed as a graduating student. In fact, there's no mention of her at all."  
  
That caught Harry's attention. "Dumbledore wouldn't pick an unknown to teach Dark Arts. Moony, Lupin, Lockhart—they all had reputations, didn't they?"  
  
"That's what we figured," Ron beamed. "So I took it from the other end. Tried to find mention of the name elsewhere. You won't believe where I found it." Ron put his own volume on the table. It had a large stamp on the cover, showing that it was from the Restricted section.  
  
"How'd you get this?" Harry asked, amazed.  
  
"Hermione taught me a spell to get around that. Look at this!" He opened the book to a sheet that, at a glance, might have been an older edition of the Daily Prophet. Then Harry reread the headline: Daily Profs Farts.  
  
"It was a gag newsletter some students printed up fifty years ago," Hermione explained. "Rather nasty, and overall very juvenile. Trust Ron to take an important spell and go playing around in the smut section with it."  
  
"Thank you, Madam Pince," Ron glared at Hermione, then turned back to Harry. "But it's all stuff about Hogwarts, at least the way it was then. Now read this," Ron said. "Don't touch it; you'll set off the alarm. Just read it."  
  
It seemed to be a gossip column. Most of the article was about a couple of Prefects who had gone "skinny-dipping" in the lake after midnight, but one paragraph made Harry's stomach turn over. It mentioned Tom Riddle, still a student at Hogwarts at the time, before he turned to the Dark Arts and started calling himself Lord Voldemort. But the paragraph itself was the big shock:  
  
"With a suitor for each of her five years here, Slytherin seductress Margaret Hawksaw seems to have stooped to robbing the cradle. Even though only a third-year, Tom Riddle is asking to have his heart broken by hanging about with her. Best be on your guard, Tommy!"  
  
…to be continued… 


	9. On the Town

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.9: On the Town  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
Minerva McGonagall pinched the top of her nose. "Honestly, Miss Granger, gentlemen, this school was quite capable of running itself before you came along."  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ron were tripping over each other's sentences.  
  
"But it's the same family, don't you see…"  
  
"I never did trust her, and this explains everything…"  
  
"And she hasn't worked a single bit of magic since she got here…"  
  
"Enough!" McGonagall was on her feet now. "I am not obliged to explain anything at all to you, but I'll set the record straight. Megan Hawksaw is the granddaughter of the girl you read about in this … thing," she gestured toward the bound newsletter. "The Ministry conducted a proper investigation the last time He Who Must Not Be Named attempted to assert his power, and Margaret Hawksaw was cleared of any wrong-doing, by virtue of the fact that she was dead.  
  
"As for yourselves, that's another matter. Books which are in the Restricted section have been placed there with good reason, as Madam Pince would be only too happy to remind you. I don't know which one of you spirited this one off of the shelves, but it's bad enough that it was done at all. The penalty—and you should know that this pains me—will be twenty points from Gryffindor, apiece."  
  
All three started to protest at once.  
  
McGonagall held up a hand. "And it'll be an additional sixty points if you don't clear out of this office, now!"  
  
The three glumly walked back to Gryffindor. "Sucks that Dumbledore isn't here," Ron muttered. "He would've listened to us."  
  
"But he's off arranging that Quidditch match with the other schools," Hermione put in.  
  
"Are you his appointment secretary, then?"  
  
"Well, if you'd asked me before, maybe we would've waited, and not gone to McGonagall, and then we wouldn't be out sixty points."  
  
"Who cares about points at a time like this?"  
  
"Well, I'm not so worried. Harry'll make it up when we beat Ravenclaw next week; right, Harry?"  
  
No answer. Ron punched Harry between the shoulders. "Come down out of the clouds, then; we're talking to you!"  
  
"Er, sorry," Harry muttered.  
  
"Is this a touchy subject for you Harry?" Hermione asked, with a note of concern that Ron had never heard from her before.  
  
"Well, I was just thinking. Of the three of us, I'm the only one that's ever been face to face with Voldemort."  
  
"Yeah," Ron put in, "and lived to tell the tale. But would you PLEASE not say his name!"  
  
"The thing is, well, it's never been easy. I still don't remember everything about when he tried to kill me the first time, but just enough to know it must have hurt. I suppose it's making me a bit wary, is all."  
  
They were at the portrait of the fat lady. The thought crossed Harry's mind: funny we never thought to ask her name. Before he could do it this time, though. Hermione spoke up with the password: "Butterbeer".  
  
"That reminds me," Ron said as they passed into the Common Room. "This weekend's the first time you'll be able to go into Hogsmeade with the rest of us. No more…" He took a quick look around, then dropped his voice to a whisper. "No Invisibility Cloak this time. So, you want to meet up at the Inn or at Zonko's?"  
  
"Well, the thing is," Harry said a bit sheepishly, "I've already arranged to spend the time…"  
  
The others interrupted in unison: "with Cho!"  
  
"Harry," Hermione looked at him, "this has been going on all year."  
  
Ron punched her on the arm. "Since last year. Haven't you been paying attention?"  
  
"So this is really serious, then?"  
  
Harry gave her a small smile that seemed to have a little sadness to it. "I suppose. I don't have anything to compare it to."  
  
Hermione looked as if she wanted to say something else, but suddenly turned and went up to her dormitory. So did Ron, although he clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder as he left. They didn't seem to be mad at Harry, yet there was … something else that each seemed to want to say.  
  
# #  
  
That Saturday seemed to take its own time getting there. It would be a great time for Hogwarts students: the year's first trip into Hogsmeade in the afternoon, the Halloween party in the evening. Harry and Cho agreed to meet under the tree where they'd had their picnic, then go into town together.  
  
Harry wasn't there ten minutes before Cho walked up. They'd seen each other and exchanged notes by owl several times since then, but that was still in Hogwarts, in the library. Here by the lake, they kissed and held each other with an intensity that took them both by surprise.  
  
They both looked as if they wanted to talk about something, but couldn't find the words. They simply held onto each other, each lost in the other's eyes. Finally, Cho's laugh broke the spell. "Much as I'd love to stay here with you, it's getting a bit late. We'd better get going if we want to spend any time there at all." Harry smiled and nodded and, hand in hand, they ran down the road to Hogwarts, robes flapping in the breeze.  
  
Hogwarts was one of the most unique towns in England, since it was all wizard. Like Diagon Alley, there was no attempt to cover up any of its magic, and even the most ordinary-looking buildings had something special about them.  
  
Because of the slight chill in the air, their first stop was the Three Broomsticks, a pub with an inn attached. They found a table for two near the back and ordered a couple of butterbeers.  
  
As they sipped their drinks, holding hands all the while, Harry glanced at the stairs, then blushed profoundly.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Um, nothing."  
  
"Harry…"  
  
"Well, I just realized that this is an inn, and there are rooms upstairs."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So I just wondered if any students would…" The blush deepened. "Y'know, they might come here, for…"  
  
"Why, Harry Potter!" Cho laughed. "Where did THAT idea come from?!"  
  
"I don't know myself," he chuckled. "I didn't offend you, did I?"  
  
"It's funny, is all, because you don't know the truth of it and I do. The fact is, Madam Rosmerta would NEVER rent out a room to students for THAT! Never mind that Dumbledore wouldn't stand for it; she'd lose her license!"  
  
"How do you know all that, anyway?"  
  
"Well, let's just say that Hogwarts has a lot of unwritten legends, and they get passed around from class to class."  
  
"You mean, others have tried…"  
  
"And failed. To name two," her smile broadened, "your parents."  
  
Harry's mouth fell open. Like most children, he'd never really tried to imagine his own parents in terms of sex. "What, I mean, how much do you know…"  
  
"The way I heard the story, they were both sixth-years. It was springtime, just before final exams. They were feeling a bit, well, I guess you'd say anxious. There's nowhere really private at Hogwarts, what with ghosts and elves all around the place, so they took a chance on coming here.  
  
"But no sooner are they in the door, when Madam Rosmerta is on them. "I know exactly why you're here," she tells them very loudly, "and there'll be none of that in this establishment. You come back here on your wedding night and I'll give you the finest room you could ever want, but not one minute before." Well, there was nothing to do but go back to Hogwarts. They say their faces were still burning red with embarrassment when they got back to the castle.  
  
"So time goes by, they graduate and they get married. Then they hop on their brooms and fly over to Hogsmeade. Took them hours, of course, but they wanted to surprise Madam Rosmerta. No sooner do they walk in the door when there she is, with a big smile on her face. She doesn't say a word, but hands them a key. They get upstairs, and, sure enough, one of the doors has a sign on it: Reserved for James and Lily Potter. They go on in, and the stories never give any details—just that Madam Rosmerta was true to her word; the room was everything they could have expected, and more besides."  
  
Cho gave Harry's hand a light squeeze. He seemed to be looking down at the table. Then she saw a tear run down his cheek. "What's the matter?"  
  
Harry look up; his eyes were brimming, but he was smiling. "What's wrong is that I miss them so much, especially when I hear something like that. I wish I could have heard the story from their lips, and told them about you, and asked them the hundred thousand questions I've had about being in love. But I'm glad you told me that story. It's like you're as fond of them as I am."  
  
"Of course I'm fond of them," Cho smiled. "Look at the wonderful gift they gave me."  
  
A warm glow hit Harry squarely in the chest, as if his heart had burst into a miraculous flame, one that would never die out. Their faces moved closer…  
  
"Oy Harry!" It was Ron, working his way through the crowd to their table. "Who are you hiding from? We've still got a town to enjoy. Hello, Cho."  
  
Harry's eyebrows went up. This was the first time Ron had spoken to Cho directly. For her part, Cho leaned back in her chair, a surprised look on her face. "Has anyone told you that you're starting to look just like the twins?"  
  
"What, Fred and George? Nah, they're completely different."  
  
"I mean before, when they were Beaters. I saw a lot of them then; they made sure of that."  
  
"C'mon then, you two," Ron said. "Still lots left to do before the party."  
  
The tension of a moment before was broken, replaced by a real happiness on Harry's part. He had wondered whether his old friends would truly accept Cho; it looked as if Ron was doing exactly that. Harry and Cho went out the door with Ron, joined up with Hermione and others from Gryffindor, and wandered the rest of Hogsmeade. They couldn't have been happier.  
  
Except for one brief moment. Outside the Shrieking Shack, now quiet and deserted, Cho broke away for a minute to talk to some friends from Ravenclaw. As she did so, Harry looked back at the house, and felt a pang of guilt. There was still so much he had to keep hidden, and the house reminded him of it: of Peter Pettigrew, of Sirius Black, of the Marauder's Map. Why couldn't he trust her as fully as she trusted him? But how could he put his own godfather's life at risk? He couldn't see any way out of the problem—not yet.  
  
When Cho came back to his side, the fears and doubts vanished. There was still the remainder of a wonderful afternoon in the village, and a wonderful night ahead at Hogwarts.  
  
…to be continued… 


	10. In Love and Quidditch

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.10: In Love and Quidditch  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it…]  
  
The first Saturday in November dawned brilliantly crisp and clear. It was ideal Quidditch weather, and all of Hogwarts wanted to see this game. It was the first played at the school in two years, it was the first time out for many of the players. Most important, though, it would be a head-to- head match between Harry Potter of Gryffindor and Cho Chang of Ravenclaw—the school's two best Seekers, as well as the school's most openly affectionate couple. Nobody knew what to expect.  
  
Least of all Harry Potter.  
  
Ever since he arrived at Hogwarts four years before, he found that riding a broom was second nature to him. He felt completely at home in the air, even in a breakneck plunge to the ground. But this--having to play against the first true love of his life--left him completely befuddled.  
  
"Yeh got ter forget who she is," Hagrid counseled him the night before the game. He'd gone with Ron and Hermione to visit Hagrid in his shack on the grounds; a trip he hadn't made as often this year as in the past. He expected the big and burly groundskeeper to give him the cold shoulder; instead, Hagrid acted as if Harry was as much an old friend as ever. "Ye've a job ter do, an' yeh can't be lettin' her get in the way of doin' it. I've had some, er, well, experience in these matters; more than my share, I'm ashamed ter say." Hagrid stared at the fire for a minute, absently scratching between the ears of Fang, his gigantic boarhound.  
  
"Hagrid?" Hermione prompted gently.  
  
He seemed to remember where he was. "So yeh just think o' her as a Seeker from some other school or somethin'. Don't be lettin' yer rememberin' get in the way."  
  
"NOW do you get it, Harry?" Hermione interrupted, with more than a little annoyance. "We've told you as much a hundred times this week, but it doesn't seem to matter."  
  
"It's just easier said than done, is all," Harry replied impatiently. "I can't seem to control what I feel when I look at her."  
  
"Well, you'd better learn," Ron put in, "or you'll be useless to Gryffindor."  
  
"Oh, that's a bit harsh, innit?"  
  
"No, Hagrid, it's not harsh. And you're not the only one with experience. I've seen all this before."  
  
"I rather doubt that; you're not even on the team."  
  
"Not me, Hermione. My brother Charlie ended up in a fix like Harry's. He was a Seeker too, y'know. Only he was dating the Hufflepuff Keeper. They were both majoring in Dragons, you see. So they spent a lot of time together off the pitch.  
  
"Anyway, it was his last game of his last year. Anyone watching could see his mind wasn't on the Snitch. So finally, he's chasing the Snitch, but takes his eyes off it just for a second to watch his girl make a great save, and the Snitch gets away from him. And what does she do, but take the Quaffle and throw it slam into the back of his head. And she yells at him, "Give us a real game, you lump!" Well, he got serious after that; won the match for Gryffindor about fifteen minutes later."  
  
"But how did the two of them act after the game?"  
  
"I was a little kid; you think he'd tell me? All I know is, they were still lovey-dovey for about six months after that. Then they had some kind of dust-up and stopped speaking to each other. Wasn't about Quidditch, in any case."  
  
Hermione spoke up again. "Harry, do you really think she'll resent you for it if Gryffindor wins? If so, your opinion of her isn't as high as you like to think. A real sportsman—or sportswoman—would just want you to play the best you can, no matter the outcome."  
  
"Jes' keep yer eye on the Snitch," Hagrid told Harry as they left to return to Hogwarts. "Things'll sort themselves out right enough. I'll see yeh all tomorrow."  
  
* *  
  
All good advice, but there was no more avoiding it; this was the tomorrow. Harry raced down to breakfast, joining the rest of the Gryffindor team. The Ravenclaw table was empty.  
  
"You just missed them," Angelina Johnson said as she piled sausages on her plate. "Don't think they had much of an appetite."  
  
Harry looked around the Gryffindor table. The three Chasers were there, of course, and so were the three new faces. Egan Mosley, a third-year who was burly but surprisingly swift, would be their new Keeper. The new Beaters couldn't have been more different from the Weasley twins, or from each other. The sixth-year Zelko Myslevic had stayed at Hogwarts, after being part of the Durmstrang group the year before. He put an awesome amount of power into each Bludger he hit, playing not only accurately but fiercely enough to rattle most opponents. His partner, Leigh Caporeale, was a third- year whose parents were both Muggles. His father, who worked in a hospital pharmacy, was also a billiards fanatic. Leigh simply used what he'd learned about billiards at home and applied it to Quidditch. What his blows lacked in power, they made up for in accuracy.  
  
We're a good lot, Harry thought to himself as he reached for the eggs. I think we could even beat Oliver's old team. We might… He noticed that, even as he reached for the plate of eggs, the plate moved away from him. When he drew his arm in, the plate slid toward him.  
  
Katie Bell, without dropping a word of her conversation with Alicia Spinnet, pointed her wand under the table and let loose a small explosion. As it went off, Peeves the poltergeist flew through the eggs and up toward the ceiling.  
  
Zelko looked a bit nervous, but Katie simply said, "Take it somewhere else, Peeves. We'll surprise them all today."  
  
"Don't think so," Peeves replied in a childish singsong. "Peeves knows things, Peeves does. Peeves knows something you don't know."  
  
"Who cares what you know?" Angelina said, pretending indifference.  
  
"It's about the other Seeker. Got trickies up her sleevesies, she does. Better watch out." With a short, loud cackle, Peeves passed through the wall.  
  
Katie turned to Myslevic. "Hey, Zelko, did you have any ghosts like that at Durmstrang?"  
  
Myslevic nodded, then looked deep in thought. They knew he was trying to form an answer. He was very self-conscious about his use of the English language. After a minute, he spoke: "Less childish; more scarier."  
  
Harry completely lost track of how much he'd eaten, if anything. It seemed to him that he'd only just sat down when Angelina rapped on the table—her signal that it was time to go. They left for the stadium just as other Hogwarts students were coming down to breakfast.  
  
He noticed one thing as he walked across the lawn to the Quidditch stadium: he felt fine. For the first few practice sessions this year, he couldn't help but shudder as he neared the stadium. When he'd seen it last year, it was the Maze—the final test for the Tri-Wizard Champions. It cost Cedric Diggory his life.  
  
Mercifully, it all seemed to be behind him now. Focus on the Snitch, he kept telling himself; focus on the game.  
  
The Gryffindor team donned their red playing robes in silence. Angelina wasn't one for making stirring speeches, as Wood had been when he was captain. She did, however, talk strategy.  
  
"Right, you two," she said to the Beaters. "Keep it the way we've practiced. Annoy them at first; get them upset, let them make their own mistakes. You don't have to inflict any damage right away. Egan, stay sharp out there." Then silence as all eyes turned to Harry. "Are you gonna be all right, Harry?"  
  
"Don't worry about me; I'm fine. I want to get out there." Harry hoped that he sounded convincing; he had seldom felt more unsettled.  
  
The team filed up to its launching tower. As they climbed to the top, they could hear the noise of the crowd getting louder and louder. Just as Harry reached the top, the magically amplified voice of Lee Jordan cut through the roar. He hadn't done any announcing last year; now, his voice had changed, and he sounded just like the sports announcers Uncle Vernon listened to on the television.  
  
"Right-o, Hogwarts, and welcome to the first Quidditch match of the season. We've got a stunner of a contest to open things up this year. It's Gryffindor defending its championship against Ravenclaw—two of the strongest teams at Hogwarts." This was met with boos from the Syltherin benches. "It should also be a spirited duel between Cho Chang and Harry Potter, two very experienced and physical Seekers—both on and off the field."  
  
Some of the crowd laughed at that; to Harry, it sounded like they were all laughing. His cheeks burned.  
  
Professor McGonagall's voice rose over the crowd. "Jordan, I warned you about that."  
  
"Sorry, Professor, won't happen again." Lee slipped back into his announcing voice. "There are also a lot of fresh faces on the field today, so the outcome is going to be anybody's guess."  
  
Angelina signaled for the team to mount their brooms. Harry, for the first time in years, felt butterflies in his stomach; his glasses were fogging up. What was he doing here??  
  
"AND HERE'S GRYFFINDOR!" The team flew a lap around the stadium, as Dean quickly described the three new players. Harry then took his place on the field.  
  
"HERE COMES RAVENCLAW!" The blue-robed Ravenclaw team circled the field, to cheers from most of the houses, boos from the Slytherins and cawing from Ravenclaw supporters.  
  
"Returning Captain and Keeper Roger Davies still has most of his team from two years before, including Seeker Cho Chang and Beater Pierpont McMurdo. You may not recognize the other Beater, Jameson Bridgewick; as a second- year, he's the baby of the group, but we've heard excellent reports about him. Veteran Chaser Erasmus Skiddle has two new colleagues this year: Ravandra Singh and Pablo Molina. The teams are taking their positions, and we're waiting for Madam Hooch."  
  
Davies and Johnson stood together at the center of the field, with the teams arrayed behind them, brooms at the ready. Harry couldn't help but look at Cho. His mouth went suddenly dry when he saw that her forehead was crinkled in a certain way he recognized. At first he thought it made her look cute; then he came to realize that it meant she was working out some complicated problem or other.  
  
So that's how it's going to be, Harry thought. In this last moment before the game, he finally stopped worrying about Cho as anything other than the opposing Seeker.  
  
Madam Hooch stepped into the stadium and gave the usual final instructions to the captains. The players mounted their brooms, and she blew her silver whistle.  
  
Suddenly everything was happening fifty feet up in the air, as the game got underway.  
  
"Gryffindor gets first possession of the Quaffle. Angelina Johnson flying downfield, a nice reverse toss to Bell, and—well, never saw that one before; Johnson falls back to take another reverse toss from Bell. Looks like they worked some things up during the summer. Johnson isn't the type to let grass grow under her feet; that's why she's Captain. She takes it to the—no, it's a pass to Spinnet, who inches the Quaffle past Keeper Davies, and it's Gryffindor first on the scoreboard."  
  
Between the rush of the wind, the cheers of the crowd and the adrenalin pumping through him, Harry was his old self again. This was where he felt he truly belonged. He looked around, then realized two things: Ravenclaw wasn't trying to foul him out with any Bludgers, and he didn't see Cho. He did a quick turn, caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and quickly turned hard to the right. Cho was above and a few yards behind Harry, in his "blind spot".  
  
Lee picked up on Ravenclaw's strategy, just as Singh scored Ravenclaw's first goal. "Looks like Ravenclaw's forgotten all about the opposing Seeker, and we have a Chaser duel going on. That strategy could cost them dearly in the long run."  
  
Gryffindor continued to run up the score, but Ravenclaw stayed close behind. Harry and Cho, meanwhile, had a separate little dance going on as they searched for the Golden Snitch. If one saw it and moved toward it, the other would try to block, if not get there first. Consequently, the Snitch kept getting away, and the teams continued to roll up the score.  
  
As the game moved into its second hour, Angelina called for a time-out. Gryffindor was ahead 350 to 300. The teams hovered at opposite ends of the field.  
  
"Harry, what's she playing at?"  
  
"I don't know. She's usually more aggressive. D'you think Davies told her to hold back?"  
  
"I can't tell what they're trying to do. Maybe they think they can run up the score to a lead of more than 150 points; then it won't matter who gets the Snitch."  
  
"That's not likely; we've been at it an hour, and they're still behind."  
  
"We haven't many choices. Your broom is still faster than her old Comet Two Sixty. Use your speed, get the Snitch, and let's wrap this up as soon as possible."  
  
The team flew back into position, as the Ravenclaws did the same. Hooch blew her whistle, and play resumed.  
  
"Skiddle has the Quaffle, he's flying downfield—WOW! A brilliant Bludger hit by Caporeale, knocking the Quaffle right out of Skiddle's arms and over to Katie Bell. She flies to the goal, she shoots—and it's a neat save by Keeper Davies, who hands the Quaffle off to Chaser Molina. He's a quick one, dodges one Bludger, then the other, gets it past Keeper Mosley and scores! Gryffindor's lead is cut to thirty points, but they have to be getting tired out on both sides."  
  
Harry hadn't done much of anything yet, but found the tension just as exhausting as the play downfield was on the others. He started making quick moves above the others, whether he thought he saw the Snitch or not, just to be doing something, and to keep Cho confused…  
  
Suddenly, Cho sailed her broom down to hover in front of his, their brooms almost touching. She was looking at a spot a few feet above Harry's head.  
  
It was the Snitch, hovering, close enough for either Seeker to touch.  
  
As Harry tried to grab it, though, it fluttered just out of his reach, then settled back into the same spot. He and Cho each tried to grab it three times, with the same result each time. Both Seekers had the same thought at the same time: It's taunting us.  
  
Down below them, Ravenclaw had just scored another goal to tie the score at 420 each. It was exciting and frustrating at the same time. Either Seeker could win the game now, but Harry couldn't grab the Snitch, and Cho had apparently stopped trying.  
  
Then she made her move.  
  
Her broom quickly feinted to the left, then swung back. Again a feint and a swing back to center. Harry didn't dare look away from the Snitch, hovering just above them, but also knew he had to keep an eye on Cho's broom.  
  
The broom suddenly swung to the right, trying to get around Harry. He swung around, but as he did so, he realized—Cho wasn't on the broom.  
  
He looked up. She had managed to jump straight up off of her broom, grabbed the Snitch, did a somerset in mid-air, then settled back onto her broom.  
  
The crowd fell silent, except for Lee Jordan: "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"  
  
The stands exploded into cheering. Cho gave Harry a smile and a wink, then took the Snitch to Madam Hooch.  
  
Things remained unsettled for the next few minutes, as Angelina Johnson and Professor McGonagall tried to protest the play. Roger Daniels and Professor Flitwick argued just as strenuously for the other side. However, looking through the rulebook and "Quidditch Through the Ages" confirmed what Cho already knew; there was no rule that said you had to stay on your broom at all times. "Score 570 to 420," Madam Hooch declared; "Ravenclaw is the winner!"  
  
The students mobbed the Ravenclaw team, especially Cho Chang, as they landed. It took Harry several minutes to work his own way through to Cho. Along the way, he was stopped by Professor McGonagall.  
  
"I warned you about this, Potter."  
  
"But I didn't work anything out with her! I still don't even know how she did that!"  
  
She still looked dissatisfied, but sighed. "Yes, I suppose you did your best. You'll just have to be on your guard next time."  
  
As soon as McGonagall left, Ron grabbed Harry's elbow, with Hagrid and Hermione right behind him.  
  
"Wicked game, Harry! Best one I've seen here!"  
  
"Aye," Hagrid nodded, "folks'll be talkin' about this match fer years."  
  
"But how did she do that?" Hermione asked.  
  
"HARRY!" Just then, Cho pushed through the crowd. "Fantastic match; well done!"  
  
"But—how did…"  
  
"I told you weeks ago; my family has acrobats in it as well as wizards. I hope you don't think I cheated?"  
  
Harry did the only thing he could do: he started to laugh. He pulled Cho into his arms, hoisted her up off the ground and spun her around. By the time he set her down, she was laughing too. And, with the entire school looking on, they kissed. Surrounded by hundreds of people, they were as lost in that kiss as they were in their first. Nothing in the world existed for them except each other. They wanted time to stop dead, so it would always be like this.  
  
…to be continued… 


	11. Simple Gifts

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.11: Simple Gifts  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it.]  
  
The next game was totally predictable: Slytherin trampled all over Hufflepuff. Still, both Harry and Cho were interested in watching it, since it gave them a look at the Slytherin team in general and Draco Malfoy in particular. Draco was now Captain as well as Seeker, since Marcus Flint had graduated. Crabbe and Goyle were still there as Beaters, although they kept on committing foul after foul.  
  
The Sunday afternoon after the match, Harry and Cho were walking to the greenhouses. The chill of winter was already in the air, but there was no snow on the ground yet. Most of their talk was about the game.  
  
"They don't respect anyone," Harry was saying about Draco's Beaters. "They don't even care if they foul out. They just want to scare the other side."  
  
"That was always their strategy. They've just never been this blatant about it."  
  
A chorus of hooting made them turn toward Hogwarts. A dozen owls, large and small, had just left the Owlery and were flying, in formation, to London. It was almost the end of the term, and students were arranging to spend their holidays at home.  
  
"You really have to go, then?" Harry asked, for what must have been the tenth time that month.  
  
Cho sighed. "I told you; my parents insist on it. It's because Andrew's coming back from Japan as part of that match. All of a sudden, they want to get all the details straight about our.my.I can't even say it out loud anymore." Harry put his hands on her shoulders; she slumped back, leaning against him.  
  
Harry nuzzled her ear and her long black hair. "Are you sure I can't come to London?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could take rooms in Diagon Alley, and we could talk to your parents."  
  
"I wish it was as easy as all that. There are so many things wrong with you in their eyes, I wouldn't know where to start."  
  
"I guess being famous doesn't count for anything this time, then."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with being the famous Harry Potter, as long as you're ten thousand miles away. But you were attacked by the Dark Lord himself."  
  
"And I survived. Doesn't that count for something?"  
  
"Better if you'd never been attacked at all. My parents lived through some rough times, and so did their parents. They've had to put up with violence from Muggles, from Chinese witches, from English witches. They think the best thing for me would be a quiet, bland, ordinary life in which nothing happens."  
  
"You wouldn't last a week," Harry chuckled.  
  
"Yes, but they can't see that. Then, you're a Parseltongue. The snake is a powerful symbol in Chinese magic; it can mean triumph or tragedy, poverty or vast riches, but always with hidden secrets. I know that isn't you," Cho smiled, "but that's what they think."  
  
Harry couldn't answer. Ever since he found out he was a wizard, the choice lay before him: Gryffindor or Slytherin, each with its own road to greatness. He felt an especially deep pang when she spoke of hidden secrets. There were still so many things he was keeping from her.  
  
"And then there's Quidditch," Cho went on. "Don't laugh, but they don't like the idea of me playing the game. They read the Daily Prophet, and they see where professional Quidditch players are on the road so often, and how many of their marriages don't last. I guess that, at bottom, they wouldn't like you because you're not Andrew and you're not Chinese."  
  
"How about this summer, then? I can't just let you go without saying something."  
  
"If it were up to me, you could say whatever you like. But somebody has to say it in a language they'll understand. Let me start over the holidays. I can tell them how I feel about Andrew, and about you. Then you can talk to them in the summer."  
  
A kiss and a hug, and they walked slowly back to the castle.  
  
* *  
  
They agreed that Harry wouldn't be on the platform when the Hogwarts Express took her back to London. The exams took too much time to study for, anyway. And Harry had gotten involved in Hermione's Great Hawksaw Hunt, as Ron called it.  
  
"I can't believe Dumbledore hasn't said anything to anybody about this," Hermione muttered as she brought yet another stack of books to the table she'd reserved in the otherwise deserted library. "There's Megan, who showed up here this year, and Margaret, who was here decades ago, and absolutely nothing in between! That's just not possible."  
  
Harry had found the transcripts of the Death Eaters trials from years before-including the same sessions that Dumbledore remembered sitting through, which Harry had viewed in the Pensieve. He read them through twice, but didn't find mention of Margaret or any other Hawksaw.  
  
"What if she turned on her old mates?" Ron asked. "Gave them up to the Ministry? There might not be a written record of that."  
  
"No, because Karkaroff's trial is here, and he was naming names all over the place."  
  
"Stinking little coward. Hope that lot stays in Bulgaria from now on."  
  
"Come off it, Ron. Zelko is nice enough. He's a good Beater, anyway."  
  
Hermione interrupted. "Actually, I rather like Ron's idea that Margaret gave testimony in secret. We've heard Megan going on all year about how you can't trust anyone. If I had someone like that in my family history, I might go that way myself."  
  
Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. "The words are all running together. Let's stop, eh? It's Christmas Eve."  
  
"You two go on, if you like," Hermione waved the boys away. "Madam Pince won't be in to close the library for another hour."  
  
"I will never understand her," Ron muttered as they walked out of the library. "Never, never, never."  
  
"What's it matter to you? Hermione's always going to be that way."  
  
"Gets on my nerves, is all. I know this is a school, but we don't have to spend every moment studying!"  
  
"I dunno. Makes me wonder what she was used to before coming here."  
  
The fat lady in the portrait had gotten a head start on celebrating; she had a glass of champagne in her hand.  
  
"Password!" she bellowed as she saw the boys coming down the corridor.  
  
"The Holly and the Ivy," Ron said.  
  
"Well, tha's right, but then again, tha's not right."  
  
"What do you mean? That's the right password."  
  
"Sing it."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "But my voice is awful."  
  
"Just a little bit; in the spirit of the season."  
  
It was either sing or stay in the hall. So Harry and Ron sang two verses of "The Holly and the Ivy". They got the words wrong in the second verse, but the fat lady didn't seem to notice as she waved them into Gryffindor.  
  
"We probably could have sung any kind of old rubbish and she would have loved it," Ron whispered as they entered the Common Room. The room wasn't any bigger for their being the only two in it, but it certainly seemed quieter.  
  
"Coming up, then?" Ron asked. "Or weren't you as bleary as you said?"  
  
"Yeah, I am. I just want a minute alone."  
  
Ron gave Harry a searching look, nodded and went upstairs.  
  
Harry walked over to the window that looked out onto the lake. Even with a full moon in the sky, the surface of the lake looked flat and black as coal.  
  
He ran over in his mind the Christmas gifts he was giving to people this year. He'd even been feeling charitable toward the Dursleys. Harry wondered why he was bothering to send Uncle Vernon a box of cigars, a potted plant to Aunt Petunia and a pair of barbells to Dudley (whose dieting wasn't working too well). Maybe it had something to do with Cho; he liked to think so, anyway. He thought about the gift he'd bought for her: a necklace consisting of a thin gold chain, which held two delicate glass rings-one red for Gryffindor, the other blue for Ravenclaw. He thought of it himself, snuck into Hogsmeade one weekend afternoon and asked a jeweler to make it up for him. It took an extra draw on his account at Gringotts Bank, but he'd have it waiting for Cho when she came back from London.  
  
Harry didn't remember falling asleep at the window, still watching the moon on the lake.  
  
* *  
  
When he woke, he was in his own bed, and in his pajamas. Either he blundered upstairs half-asleep, he thought, or some of the castle spirits took care of him.  
  
And, as happened every Christmas at Hogwarts, he awoke to a pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Christmas among his Muggle family was a totally joyless occasion, and he learned early on not to expect anything special on this day, or any other. But Hogwarts was another story.  
  
Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasly, sent him a hand-knit sweater and home-baked fudge. The sweater was two sizes too large; she probably assumed that he was growing, but miscalculated by how much. Hagrid did his best to bake something like a fruit-cake. Hermione had bought him a pocket radio. It was rather small, but it picked up the wizarding stations, and it was the first radio of any kind Harry had ever owned. Finally, Ron had given Harry some photos for his album. At the end of his first year, Hagrid had given Harry an album full of photos of his mother and father. This year Ron had asked his father to make inquiries through the Ministry of Magic, and Harry now had several dozen pictures of his father James Potter, from his childhood to the birth of his son Harry. And there were pictures of James's parents, and of their parents as well. There were even a few of his mother (who came from a Muggle family), taken when she was in her first year at Hogwarts. He could hardly believe that the little green-eyed girl in the picture would grow up to give birth to him, and die defending him.  
  
And there was one present left over.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Harry," Ron said, as he parted the curtains of his four- poster and stepped onto the floor. "Found the pictures, did you?"  
  
"Yes, and they're wonderful. How far back do they go?"  
  
"Dunno, really. But I think your father's great-great-grandfather is in there somewhere, so that's about a hundred years."  
  
All Harry could say was "Wow!" as he stared at the pictures. "I never had this much family before. And they're all wizards?"  
  
"On your father's side, they are. What's that last one, then?"  
  
He knew who it was from, but had no idea what it was. It was a small square box not much bigger than an inkwell. He opened it, and the gift inside blossomed out of the box, landing on Harry's bed and growing until it was the size of a Quaffle. It was a sphere, clear on the outside but with swirling clouds of color within. There seemed to be a small mountain on the inside, and climbing up and down the mountain were three small red figures. Harry recognized them from the Tournament last year, when he'd seen one live. They were Chinese Fireballs-very dangerous and temperamental dragons. These three dragons, though, crawled up and down their little model of a mountain, spitting out little sparkles of fire. Then Harry noticed two other animals at the base of the mountain: a lion and an eagle.  
  
He noticed writing on the inside of the box's lid:  
  
"We'll see them someday, together. Happy Christmas."  
  
"Smashing! Charlie'd love to get a look at that! Think you can bring it by this summer, Harry?"  
  
Harry hardly heard what Ron was saying, but recovered himself. "Yeah, of course."  
  
Ron was also staring at the miniature dragons now, rather glumly. "Sure tops a bunch of pictures."  
  
"Come off it, Ron," Harry said, a bit impatiently. "Your gift is just as fantastic as hers. You've given me my family, my past. This is a dream for the future." He picked it up and carried it very carefully over to the washstand near the window, setting it in the basin.  
  
"Wonder what they've got the Great Hall fixed up like this year?" Ron asked as he started to pull off his nightshirt.  
  
* *  
  
This Christmas, most of the tables had been pushed against the wall. There were a few tables in the center of the Great Hall, which was filled with pine trees of all sizes, shapes, colors and scents. With the enchanted dome above them reflecting the sky, the partygoers could have thought they were outdoors.  
  
Except for the ornaments. The trees each sported some model birds that made noises like bells ringing. Each one glowed, providing light as well as sound.  
  
"Thought we'd celebrate al fresco this year. Happy Christmas," Dumbledore said from his seat. Harry and Ron were surprised. They had only seen Dumbledore once or twice at the beginning of the year. They knew he was traveling on business much of the rest of the time, but they weren't sure what that business was. Whatever it was, it left him looking thinner, almost exhausted. His eyes still glowed with the familiar life, but the wizard's weary body made that glow seem more fragile than usual.  
  
There were about a dozen students and as many faculty members, with the ghosts rounding things out. Dinner was as delicious and as plentiful as ever, the carols echoed through the hall, the ghosts put on a silly pantomime in which the Fat Friar, as a young Dumbledore, was scolded by his mother (Nearly Headless Nick) for not doing his homework. At Madam Sprout's suggestion, they played a round of "The Minister's Cat", and whenever it came Hagrid's turn, he couldn't think of a single word to say. Then again, he'd been drinking quite a bit, and the others were laughing so hard that Hagrid didn't feel the least bit embarrassed.  
  
With a last burst of exploding crackers and best wishes for the new year, the party broke up hours later at sunset, with Harry and Ron going up to their dormitory.  
  
"Harry Potter!"  
  
They turned at the voice in the corridor; it was Moaning Myrtle, the ghost of a student who had died in the girls' lavatory. She usually stayed there, but must have gotten lonely and gone out looking for the others. Harry and Ron had met her several years before, but weren't likely to go into the girls' toilet again.  
  
Ron bit his tongue as Harry said, "Happy Christmas, Myrtle." She seemed not quite her usual self; she was smiling from ear to ear. "You got something special for Christmas, then?"  
  
"Wait here," she said, passing through the wall.  
  
"She just wants to make an entrance," Ron whispered.  
  
No sooner had he spoken then Myrtle came back through the wall. This time, though, instead of her student robes, she was wearing a Chinese gown, made of red gossamer, that covered her from neck to floor. "Isn't it wonderful! I haven't had anything new to wear for decades."  
  
"How did you get that, then?" Harry asked.  
  
Myrtle smiled as if she'd been waiting for just that question. "Your Cho sent it to me," she beamed. "Knows a lot, she does. She's got her own Chinee way of sending stuff to the dead. Makes paper models and burns them. And there's some other stuff I didn't understand, but, well, here it is!"  
  
"Looks good on you," Harry said.  
  
"Yeah," smirked Ron. "Come on by the boys' toilet sometime so we can all admire it."  
  
"You, Ron Weasley, are nasty. Happy Christmas, Harry." Myrtle waved her hand, and disappeared back through the wall.  
  
"Reckon we'll have to change her name now," Ron said as they got back to Gryffindor and went up to their dormitory. "Can't exactly call her Moaning Myrtle if she stops moaning. And did you get that-'your Cho'."  
  
Harry went straight to the Chinese Fireballs in the globe. "I like the sound of that."  
  
There was only a little small talk between them as they got ready for bed and put out the lights. The globe continued glowing softly in the basin, looking like multicolored moonlight.  
  
Still, it was about ten minutes before Ron spoke up. "Oy Harry."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm not sleepy." There was a pause. "And there's something I've been meaning to ask you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Well, and I don't mean anything by this, but when you're with Cho, and you're holding her and kissing and all."  
  
Harry waited. "So?"  
  
"So what's it like?"  
  
Harry had half-expected a question like that from Ron, but it still caught him by surprise. "Um, well, I, I don't know if it's 'like' anything."  
  
"Give us a hint, then."  
  
"Well, it's like, there's me and there's her, and that's all. Everything else in the world just sort of buggers off."  
  
"But how does she make you feel?"  
  
"I don't want to say 'happy' because it isn't just that. It's like five times more than happy. When I'm with Cho, I just know that everything is all right, and everything will always be all right. Contented, I guess you'd say."  
  
"Yeah, right." Harry couldn't see Ron's face, but heard the smirk in his voice all too plainly. "But you want to get on further than that, eh?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means I hear you have one off the wrist every now and then, like the rest of us. I mean, we've roomed together for five years now, right? So, have you ever tried to, you know, talk to her about it?"  
  
Even though his cheeks were burning, Harry tried to put the answer into words. "S'funny. Sometimes when I'm by myself, that's all I can think of; what it'd be like, me and Cho, y'know, doing it." The blush intensified; he was afraid Ron would laugh or giggle, but he didn't. "But it's like I said. When I'm with her, even just holding her hand is so, well, it just feels so, well, it just doesn't cross my mind to try to do more. Only after, when we're apart."  
  
"You figure she feels the same?"  
  
"I really don't know. Sometimes I think maybe she does. Sometimes I haven't a clue what she thinks."  
  
"You sound like my Dad." Harry heard the rustle of Ron's blanket. "Happy Christmas, Harry."  
  
"Happy Christmas, Ron."  
  
.to be continued. 


	12. Foreign Affairs

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.12: Foreign Affairs  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it...]  
  
"Happy Christmas." Harry slipped the velvet-covered box across the library table toward Cho. It was her first night back at Hogwarts, and they were again in their private corner of the library. She opened the box, and her eyes glowed.  
  
"Oh Harry, where did you find this?"  
  
"Didn't find it. I thought it up myself, and had someone in Hogsmeade run it up."  
  
She pushed it back at him. "Put it on me. Please."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Cho stood up, turning her back to Harry and lifting the long black hair off of her neck. Harry was suddenly aware that, with all of the clothing and robes worn at Hogwarts, Cho was showing him quite a bit of skin--even if it was only the back of her neck. He started to sweat as he reached around her, then tried to work the catch. Cho's back was leaning up against his chest. He finally locked the catch and let his hands fall to her shoulders.  
  
Now what? She must have known the necklace was in place now, but she didn't move, except to sort of inch her body back toward Harry's. At that moment, Harry was glad the robes were so thick; she probably didn't realize what was happening to him.  
  
A second later, Cho pulled forward again. She turned, her eyes cast down, and with a blush to her cheeks that made her even prettier than before. "It's beautiful," she said, barely above a whisper. "I'll wear it until the day I die."  
  
Now it was Harry's turn to blush as she looked up and into his eyes. "Well, that might be a bit, er..." He couldn't finish the sentence. "Cho?"  
  
She smiled, took his hand and led him back to their table. "Sorry," she smiled. "I just got lost in your eyes for a moment. They're so beautiful."  
  
"They're my mom's," he blushed. "I mean--well, you know what I mean. So, tell me what happened."  
  
"My father seems to agree with me, but then he's really tried to adjust to living in England. My mother's the dead opposite. I think she saw my getting engaged to Andrew as the best way to preserve our heritage."  
  
"I hope they haven't had any quarrels on my account."  
  
"No," Cho smiled, "actually the quarrelsome one is Granny Li, my mum's mum. She and my mother have been going at it for years, over one thing or another. I think we're all rather used to it."  
  
"And how does she feel?"  
  
"Sorry, Harry, but I really don't know. Every time I tried to talk to her about this over the holidays, she changed the subject."  
  
"That can't be a good sign, then."  
  
Cho squeezed Harry's hand. "Don't worry. She still wants to see me happy more than anything else in the world. And it would be easier for you to talk to her than to my mum."  
  
"It's funny. I can hardly wait to meet them this summer, and see what that part of Diagon Alley looks like. I'm also really scared. Feels like one of the Tasks last year."  
  
"Well, you won those; you'll win them over too. I just know it."  
  
"Do you think it might help if I learned some Chinese?"  
  
"Not with my father; he hardly speaks it any more himself, unless he's having an argument with mum or transacting business. The others might be glad to see you at least make the effort."  
  
"So, is there something special I'd call you? Apart from your name, I mean."  
  
Cho giggled. "If this were China in the old days, I'd want you to call me 'hsin-kan.'"  
  
"What's that, then?"  
  
"Heart and Liver".  
  
"That's gross!"  
  
"Not if you think about it. It's just another way of saying that you can't live without me."  
  
"Isn't there a simpler way to say 'I love you'"?  
  
Cho leaned across the table, speaking barely above a whisper. "Wo." She gave Harry a gentle kiss on the lips. "Ai." Another kiss, soft as a butterfly's landing. "Ni." This time the kiss was longer, more intense. It was interrupted only by the steps of librarian Irma Pince along the stone floor.  
  
"Well, well. What's all this?"  
  
"Sorry, Madam Pince," Harry said; "we were studying, er, foreign languages." Cho turned her face away to hide her laughter.  
  
"Well, study this, you two. The library's closing, and you have exactly five minutes to get back to your Houses. Off now!"  
  
They scrambled madly to shove their books into their bags, then ran for the door, holding hands. By the time they left, their running steps and laughter echoed through the library, deserted except for Madam Pince and the pale figure who passed through a shelf of books to stand at the librarian's side.  
  
"Good evening, Madam Librarian," the Fat Friar saluted Madam Pince. "Watching over the two lovebirds, are we? Ah, the innocent pleasures of the flesh; forevermore denied me, alas."  
  
Madam Pince dabbed at the corner of her eye with a very large lace-trimmed handkerchief. "Does my heart good to see them. Makes me think history is repeating itself."  
  
"Ah, you mean James Potter and his lovely Lily."  
  
She nodded. "They found such happiness within these walls, only to find such horror beyond them."  
  
* *  
  
On the morning of 1 February, when Harry went into the Great Hall for breakfast, he noticed Dumbledore sitting at the head table. He had been there only once or twice since Christmas, and looked slightly more tired than he did back then.  
  
Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's mind, as he had so often in the past, as he rose to address the school:  
  
"I'm sure you've heard rumours of this before now, but details have been worked out, and I can now report that the International Student Quidditch matches will be held here this spring. Hogwarts will be represented by a team drawn from all of the Houses; a committee under the direction of Madam Hooch will be making that selection. Meanwhile, I would like to announce that the following schools will be sending teams to compete: Ayers Rock Wizarding School, Australia; Blue Crystal Mountain Retreat, of Monterey, California, the United States; Durmstrang of Bulgaria, a name which should be familiar from last year; and finally Kesshin Maho Gakuin, of Niigata Prefecture, Japan. Representatives of those schools will be here at Hogwarts in about a fortnight to finalize the arrangements. They'll be staying in the castle and dining here in the Great Hall. I expect that we will all show them the courtesy and friendliness befitting the Hogwarts name."  
  
* *  
  
"You've talked to him, haven't you?" Harry asked that evening in the library.  
  
"Not exactly talked. I mean, he's half a world away. And every time I mention it in an owl, he never responds. My folks haven't told me how he feels, either, and I'm sure they keep more in touch with him than I do."  
  
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I mean, what if he's going to be here?"  
  
"Harry, please, this may seem hard, but do nothing. I need to see him first, face to face, to get an idea of what he's thinking. It's been so long since I have. Besides, he may not even be coming."  
  
* *  
  
But he was.  
  
The representatives of the other wizarding schools arrived late on a Thursday, and spent all of the next day in conference with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hooch and other faculty members. At dinner on Friday night, the representatives sat at the head table.  
  
Before the meal, Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "I'm sure that many of you wish that you had a chance to speak with your fellows from other schools. Tonight I shall become the djinni in the lamp and grant your wish. Desserts will not be served at the end of dinner but an hour later, during a social gathering where you can meet these four gentlemen. Please don't wear them out, though, because they have to leave early tomorrow morning."  
  
The students certainly did want to speak with the visitors. Durmstrang was represented by Viktor Krum, last year's Durmstrang Champion in the Tournament. The rumour was that, even though he had attacked Cedric Diggory, he was not charged with a crime, since he was under the influence of the Imperius Curse. But he was too old to still be a student, Harry thought.  
  
The witches seemed torn between two of the other visitors. The Australian school was represented by an Aboriginal student, whose coal-black skin was offset by his pale yellow hair and blood-red robes. Harry overheard one of the Gryffindor girls whisper to another that this student was "drop-dead gorgeous".  
  
The same description, and the attention that went with it, seemed to apply to the American visitor. His sandy red hair was cut short and in an asymmetrical pattern. He had a square jaw, blue eyes and the kind of good looks that reminded Harry of Cedric Diggory.  
  
This made Harry focus all the more on the remaining visitor. He seemed maybe a year older than Harry; a rather ordinary Asian lad: black hair thick but cut short, a white shirt and tie under his robes, which were sand- colored with pale blue calligraphy that kept scrolling from one phrase to another.  
  
Harry couldn't help it. He kept looking back at Cho at the Ravenclaw table, trying to get her reaction. But she kept up a conversation with others on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Perhaps she was trying to avoid looking at the head table.  
  
When dinner was over, the tables started levitating, rearranging themselves for the social hour. As the students left the Great Hall, Harry made his way to Cho and pulled her toward a side corridor.  
  
Cho spoke up first. "Before you ask, no, I haven't had a chance to talk with him yet." She paused. "Or maybe I had the chance, but I just can't do it."  
  
"What do you mean, can't?"  
  
"He's still my oldest friend, Harry. We grew up together; he's practically a brother. I just want to find some way not to hurt his feelings."  
  
"You're not having second thoughts about this, are you?"  
  
"Are you saying you don't believe me??"  
  
"No, not at all. But we'd talked about this for so long, and you said you'd speak with him..."  
  
"And I will. Just not right now. And don't you speak to him yet either. I can't help it; I'm nervous about all this now."  
  
So was Harry, but he didn't want to admit it. He simply said, "I'll see you later." Then he went up to Gryffindor to change into a better set of robes.  
  
He took a very long time about it. For the first time in months, he saw an obstacle in the way of living happily ever after with Cho; he'd never even considered the possibility of someone or something stopping them from being together. Now, that obstacle started to loom larger and larger.  
  
When he finally went down to the social, it was already underway. The Great Hall's levitating candles were mounted on miniature brooms that circled in the air above the students, giving the hall a festive look. Harry, though, was feeling anything but festive.  
  
The largest knot of students stood close to the door, trying to talk to Viktor Krum. Ron was trying the hardest to get next to Viktor, who was finishing a sentence: "...so new headmaster asked me to join Durmstrang faculty as flight instructor."  
  
"I thought sure you'd turn professional," Ron said, before any other student could say anything. "The Vultures must be loonies not to take you!" Ron was referring to Bulgaria's national Quidditch team, the Vrasta Vultures.  
  
"Confidentially, I thought so too. But Vulture captain vanted me to vait a year for, how do you say, flavoring?"  
  
"Seasoning." That was Hermione, who Harry had just noticed was standing very close to Viktor and listening very attentively. She waved: "Hello, Harry."  
  
Viktor reached a very large hand toward Harry, who shook it as best he could. "Is good to see you again, Harry. Vill you be playing in championship?"  
  
"That's up to the school. We've got some really good Seekers at the moment; I might get passed over."  
  
"Listen to him, now," Seamus Finnegan interrupted. "Bein' all modest because of his lady love."  
  
Viktor's face clouded over. "You are Seeker too, Hermy-o-ninny?"  
  
Everyone burst out laughing. In spite of Hermione's well-deserved reputation for academic excellence, there were still some things she could not do. One of them was flying. She avoided brooms if she could help it. The idea of Hermione playing Quidditch was especially funny.  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "I'll explain it all later, Viktor."  
  
Harry decided to get some punch and cake, excused himself and went to the table. On the way he passed the Australian representative; his nametag announced him as Bruce Agnawolla. Some of the girls literally fluttered around him, trying to start conversations. But Bruce for some reason wouldn't be drawn out. He simply listened politely but silently and nodded at whoever was speaking. As Harry passed, though, Bruce looked at him searchingly, then solemnly nodded his head and went back to listening to the twittering of the girls around him. It was as if he knew...something.  
  
The American was holding forth at another group. Like Viktor, he looked a bit too old for school. According to his nametag, he was "Chad"; just "Chad". "Yeah, actually, I'm as surprised we made the cut as you are. I mean, we all expected Salem to win it. But a few bad referee calls and some rough weather and, well, here we are."  
  
"What do you study there?" one Hufflepuff witch asked.  
  
"Well, I major in magical enforcement; the Auror track. There's lots of job opportunities, even if it's crap like doing security at Muggle casinos. Still, it's a start."  
  
Chad wore his robes and his shirt half-open, and Professor McGonagall was clearly insulted that so much of his tanned chest was on display, as were the hairs on his chest and the zodiac medallion he wore. "I trust your academy's dress code isn't quite so casual," she sniffed.  
  
"Ma'am, we don't hardly wear robes. Some classes, we don't wear anything at all."  
  
All his listeners fell silent. It took McGonagall a minute to find her voice. "Do you mean to say..."  
  
Chad just nodded. "Of course, that's just the classes we teach while soakin' in the hot springs. Relaxes the students, and they absorb a lot more of the lessons that way."  
  
The faces of his listeners were now several different shades of scarlet. Harry quickly walked back to the punch bowl for a refill. He downed it in one gulp, took a deep breath, and turned to find Andrew.  
  
He was at the far end of the hall. A number of students simply stood there, watching the calligraphy scroll across his floor-length robes. Colin Creevey was asking a question in that slow, loud voice people use when speaking to a foreigner: "What city do you come from?"  
  
Andy looked at him for a minute with a steady, unnerving gaze, then broke into a wide smile. "West End, mate," he drawled in an elaborate Cockney accent; "Oo are you when you're at 'ome?"  
  
Everyone laughed, including red-faced Colin. "My folks sent me to Japan," Andy went on, "wanted me to pick up several different styles."  
  
Parvati Patil pointed to the name of his school, Kesshin Maho Gakuin, on his nametag. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Gakuin just means school, and maho is magic. Kesshin, that's the tricky bit. It means to do something totally, with your whole spirit. Get it?" The other listeners nodded.  
  
Harry was standing there the whole time, trying not to say anything. Don't speak to him, Cho had said, don't speak to him...  
  
"Well, Hogwarts seems a bit like KMG," Andy was saying, answering another question. "Of course, it's hours to get there by rail from Tokyo, same as here. Only our school is tucked up in the mountains; the Japanese Alps, they call 'em. The skiing's just fab."  
  
...don't speak to him, don't speak...  
  
"Nah, there's only a few things different in that school. The Chinese arts, of course; I doubt this school teaches I Ching, geomancy, feng shui or any of that lot. Then there's ninjitsu, the art of the ninja, which has acrobatics and potions mixed in with actual magic. Seems a bit like cheating, if you ask me."  
  
...she said don't talk to him about it, so don't...  
  
"I'll tell you right now, though, that the girls over there are the big difference. And I know what I'm talking about; I've sampled my fair share of the goods, if you catch my meaning."  
  
What?!  
  
"Age is the key to it; they're very respectful to you even if you're only a year older. So you get yourself an underclass girl and you're all set. If we were at a dig like this in Japan, I could tell a girl to go get me some more cake and she'd hop right to it. Some of them are also pretty generous in dishing out the crumpets, if you get my meaning."  
  
"A lot of, of THAT goes on, then?" one young wizard asked, his face turning scarlet.  
  
"Probably a bit more than it does here, I'd expect. They're a lot less inhibited, the Japs are. Besides, we're up in the mountains, and it can get rather cold at night."  
  
...He's making this all up; he's just trying to impress them...  
  
"I've broken a few hearts along the way, I guess, but, the way I see it, who would they report it to? Most of the professors have a little bit going on the side. It's a pretty good country all-around, if you know how to work it right."  
  
Just then, Dumbledore called for attention. "I'm afraid that I have to call a halt to the festivities. Our guests need to retire to their rooms. Thank you all for an entertaining and, I trust, informative evening."  
  
Damned right it was informative, Harry thought. He stared at Andy Tan's back as he sauntered through the Great Hall toward his rooms.  
  
Suddenly, it was as if Harry's mind went blank. He found he was a spectator to his own life, watching some stranger named Harry Potter run across the hall, through the door and into the foyer, where Tan was crossing toward the East Tower.  
  
"CHO DOESN"T LOVE YOU!"  
  
Harry hadn't realized at first that he'd yelled that out. He simply noticed that everyone had stopped moving and speaking, and were staring at him. Tan stopped in his tracks, turned and walked slowly back to Harry. In a soft voice, he asked, "You talking to me, mate?"  
  
Harry kept his voice and his emotions in as much control as he could; he felt as if he would explode any second. "Cho doesn't love you. She loves me. And I love her. Get used to that, mate."  
  
Tan, who was almost a head taller, looked impassively at Harry. "You're Harry Potter, then. When I was a kid, I always wanted to meet you. Not in these circumstances, of course. Well, now you're in my appointment book."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Gotta shove off for Japan soon. But when I come back, we're on for a wizard's duel. You and me; no seconds; one survivor. Get used to THAT, mate." He turned away from Harry and walked off.  
  
...to be continued... 


	13. Q and A

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.13: Q and A  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it...]  
  
"I don't believe I did that!"  
  
"Smashing way to end the party, though."  
  
Harry sat on his bed, his head in his hands, feeling thoroughly miserable. "That's not the way it was supposed to go. She told me not to talk to him, but what he was saying was just so... so... It was like an insult."  
  
"Insult to you or to Cho?" Ron was undressing for bed. "I mean, if he doesn't like her, why would he go through with the engagement?"  
  
"I'll ask him during the tournament, if he doesn't kill me first."  
  
Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas walked in. "Ah, the man of the hour. Got a message for you from Miss Chang," Seamus said as he threw himself onto his own bed.  
  
"Well, what is it?"  
  
"She says: don't talk to her before the game, don't talk to her after the game, don't talk to her on Sunday."  
  
"How did she look?"  
  
"Like you'd better be glad you're playing Hufflepuff tomorrow and not Ravenclaw."  
  
"What's that mean?"  
  
"She looked like she'd forget about the Snitch and separate you from your Family Jewels."  
  
Dean laughed; Ron didn't. Harry closed the drapes on his bed.  
  
* *  
  
The next morning, when Harry and the team went down to breakfast, he saw Cho sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table. She saw him enter, and immediately slipped out the other end of the hall.  
  
Harry was despondent about the party when he woke up, and that incident didn't improve things. The last thing he wanted to do that day was play Quidditch, but Gryffindor had to beat Hufflepuff if they were even to have half a chance at the House Cup.  
  
As he was putting on his robes, Alicia Spinnet came over to him. "Harry," she said quietly, "the others won't say it, but we all think it. You can pull it together. It's not even about the Cup; well, it is a little bit. We want you to be all right." She gave his arm a squeeze, then went back to the other Chasers.  
  
That made Harry feel a bit better; it reminded him that he was still important as a Seeker, regardless of any stupid things he may have said the night before. He could worry about Cho later.  
  
This match was also predictable; Hufflepuff lost again but not as badly. Their new Seeker, a fifth-year named Summerby, was very sharp-eyed and very quick. He gave Harry a bit of competition; but then, this time the opposition Beaters weren't ganging up on him.  
  
Still, it was a memorable match because of the way it finished. The Golden Snitch, with both Seekers in pursuit, rushed straight into the stands, flitting among the students and faculty.  
  
"Nobody touch it!" Madam Hooch called out to the crowd. "If anyone but the Seekers gets it, the match is forfeit!"  
  
The Seekers froze. Harry was the first to recover, looking through the spectators for a sign of the Snitch. He didn't want to injure anyone...  
  
There it was! Just an inch above the left shoulder of Cho Chang! He couldn't think of anything else but getting the Snitch. While Goldstein hesitated, Harry dove toward the crowd and plucked it out of the air, without disturbing a hair on Cho's head.  
  
Holding the Snitch aloft, Harry circled the field, whooping for joy. He had two good reasons to be joyful. He'd just won the match for Gryffindor, putting them back in competition for the House Cup...  
  
...and he'd gotten close enough to Cho to see that, however mad she may have been at him, she still wore his necklace.  
  
* *  
  
The day was also a Hogsmeade outing, clear and sunny but still with the chill of winter. Harry felt awkward going to town by himself; he didn't feel like being with Ron and Hermione. He felt even less like being there when he passed the Three Broomsticks, looked in a window and saw Cho. She sat alone at a table in the back, reading and rereading a letter, with what looked like a very large cup of coffee in front of her. He now realized the look on her face; as if she hadn't been to sleep since the party.  
  
That was more than Harry could stand. He wanted to comfort Cho, but was afraid he still wouldn't be welcome. He turned and went back to Hogwarts.  
  
* *  
  
He spent Sunday in the Common Room, catching up on some badly neglected homework. He sought out Hermione for help with a problem in Potions. Ron joined them later in the day, and for a while it seemed like old times; the three friends trying to answer the questions Snape had posed for the class.  
  
By the time the next morning rolled around, Harry was almost his old self. Cho had wanted to be left alone for the weekend, and the weekend was finally over. But when he came into the Great Hall for breakfast, she wasn't there. Nor did he see her there for lunch or dinner.  
  
As soon as he finished dinner, he ran to the library, but their usual table was empty. He sat down and waited.  
  
Thirty minutes later, he heard the voice: "Harry."  
  
He turned; Cho was standing in the aisle. Even before Harry finished rising out of his chair, she opened her arms to him.  
  
He rushed to her faster than chasing a Snitch. For five minutes they stood in the stacks; they clung to each other, they wept, they apologized, even if they weren't sure what they were apologizing for. But in fact they both knew; they had felt such misery during their brief separation. Each was sure that the other felt just as miserable, and they were right.  
  
Finally they sat back down at their usual table. Both tried to speak at once; they caught themselves, then Harry went on. "I tried not to say anything to him; really, I tried. But you have no idea what he was saying."  
  
"I think I know what he said," she said, as she drew a very battered parchment from her robes. "I heard about it from others who were there, but then Saturday morning I got this." She laid the letter on the table, and almost immediately brought her fist down on it. "He said he couldn't see me in person because of 'time constraints'. Damn him and his time constraints. He was too much of a coward to face me. And I thought at least we were still friends..." Cho started crying again, her hands over her face. Harry didn't say anything, but softly stroked her hair. Finally she looked up again, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I still can't believe he sent this."  
  
Harry managed a half-smile. "I suppose the engagement is off, then."  
  
"Not to hear him tell it. In spite of everything he's said and done, he insists we're to be married. 'I have to act in spite of my feelings, so I expect you to do the same.' What a nerve."  
  
"Does he mention the duel?"  
  
"Oh yes, he's enthusiastic enough about that. I get the feeling he's already been in a couple of duels and gotten a taste for them. Believe me, Harry, he's changed. He didn't used to be like this."  
  
At that moment, an owl--not Hedwig--glided through the library to their table and dropped a scroll in front of Harry. Not knowing who it could be from, Harry opened the scroll:  
  
"Death Eaters on the move; something big is going to happen. Snuffles will be in the same old place."  
  
Harry must have turned visibly paler as he read the note; Cho asked, "What's wrong?"  
  
"I, well, it says there's going to be trouble."  
  
Before he could say anything else, Cho took the scroll and read it. Harry was glad Sirius hadn't signed it. She also turned paler at the mention of the Death Eaters, the wizards who had sworn loyalty to Lord Voldemort. "Harry, why would you get a note like this? Do you have your own private Ministry of Magic? And who's Snuffles?"  
  
Harry was actually sweating. "Cho, listen, I... I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because someone's life is at stake. Please don't ask me any more about this." Cho still seemed to have a question about him. "You do trust me, don't you?"  
  
She took his hand in hers. "I always have. And I always will."  
  
Harry was relieved that Cho wouldn't press the matter, but also felt guilty. Once again, he was hiding something from the girl he loved.  
  
* *  
  
It would take another month--until the beginning of April, and the eve of the international Quidditch competition--before the mystery behind Megan Hawksaw was unraveled. All year, she had hammered at the students of Hogwarts that they were to trust nobody, and all too many students had taken her at her word. Discipline was becoming a problem at the school, with disputes between Houses becoming more and more common, ranging from verbal arguments to spells, sabotage and even fistfights.  
  
Every few days during that month, Harry would slip off campus, through the secret tunnel that still connected the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. From there, he went to the hills beyond the village, and in a cave there he met with his godfather, Sirius Black. Black, still unjustly wanted as an escaped murderer, returned as a large stray dog known locally as Snuffles. Like Harry's father, he had studied on his own to become an Animagus. Harry and Sirius would discuss the movements of the Death Eaters, and try to figure out what would be their next move.  
  
It was Ron, however, who found out about Megan first. For almost two years now, Ron had an owl named Pigwidgeon--"Pig" for short. It was a funny nickname, since pigs are big and fat, while Pigwidgeon was small, thin and very excitable. Even after two years, he was still making mistakes in delivering mail.  
  
On this day, he brought a note to Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron had sent Pig back home the week before, with a note to his family about the upcoming tournament, and the fact that the last position on the Hogwarts team--Seeker--was yet to be chosen. Both Harry and Cho were obvious choices, but Madam Hooch hadn't decided yet on which one it would be. When Pig arrived with a scroll, he assumed it was a return letter from his mother. Instead, he saw that it was a note from his father in the Ministry of Magic to Dumbledore. Rather than give it right back to Pig, though, he kept reading. When he'd finished, he read it again, then once more. He slumped in his seat by the fireplace and muttered to himself, "Bloody hell. Bloody hell."  
  
Pig nipped his finger--an old familiar gesture by this time. That woke him up. He rolled up the scroll and gave it back to Pig. "Wrong again, Pig. Take this to Dumbledore, got it? DUM-BLE-DORE." The owl happily flew off.  
  
Ron was out of his chair like a shot. He ran to the stairs up to the girls' dormitory. "HERMIONE! YOU UP THERE?!" He waited a minute; no reply. Probably at the library. He dashed up to his own room, hoping Harry was there. No; the room was empty. Probably off with Cho somewhere. Well, this was the chance of a lifetime. Ron rummaged through Harry's closet until he found the Cloak of Invisibility. Putting it on, he dashed downstairs and out of Gryffindor.  
  
He ran toward Dumbledore's office, but froze when he saw Professor Hawksaw striding along the corridor. She was headed for his office as well. Perfect. He slipped in behind her and moved into a corner of the office.  
  
"You sent for me, Headmaster?" she asked Dumbledore, who stayed seated behind his large desk.  
  
"Among others," he said. "Take a seat, please. You should be comfortable while we wait." They only waited five minutes before Professors Snape and McGonagall also came to the office. Snape sat in a chair that was only a few inches from where Ron was hiding, and cursing himself for being stuck so close to Snape.  
  
Dumbledore spoke up. "I've been traveling a great deal on school business, and it's been remiss of me that we haven't had a chance to simply sit and chat before. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes are, by all reports, a bit unorthodox, but that's more the rule than the exception around here. In any event, before we discuss your classes further, I must ask something of you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Remove your glasses, please."  
  
Hawksaw shrugged, then took off her yellow carriage-lamp glasses. The others in the room gasped; Ron had to bite down on the Cloak to keep from crying out himself.  
  
Her eyes glowed a dull red. The faculty had seen those same eyes years ago, in their dealings with Lord Voldemort.  
  
Dumbledore looked very sad and weary. "Explain yourself."  
  
"Not much to explain, really," Hawksaw replied casually. "What's done is done. I don't know if you remember my granny when she was a student here, Margaret Hawksaw."  
  
"I most certainly remember her," McGonagall answered. "An average witch, but in other ways very, er, precocious."  
  
"Say what you mean, damn you," Hawksaw spat out angrily. "She was promiscuous. She liked sex. She tried to get it whenever she could. And she made the mistake of approaching Tom Riddle for it."  
  
Ron only kept control because he'd already read this information in the note from the Ministry.  
  
"She didn't even fancy him," Hawksaw went on, "but thought it was exciting, him being so much younger and inexperienced. Well, she should have known someone would leave her stuck up the flagpole, and it happened to be him.  
  
"What did Hogwarts do about it? You threw her out without even a 'by your leave' to have the baby at home. You forbade her to ever come back. You refused to tell Tom Riddle where she lived; refused to even tell him that he had a daughter. And that child--my mother--was an orphan before the year was out, because you made Margaret Hawksaw feel so ashamed and so degraded that all she could do was have her baby, sicken and die."  
  
The faculty members looked at each other, apparently wanting to say something but not knowing exactly what to say. Finally, Dumbledore replied, "This is not about the choices we may have made, but about the choices you made."  
  
"Who do you think you are, speaking of choices? My mother had no choices. She got shipped across the ocean to Canada, grew up there under a different name. Took her years to find out about her true parents, and I didn't find out myself until she lay dying.  
  
"That's when I came back here. I had a reason to live now: to bring down Hogwarts, to bring it down around your sanctimonious ears. I sought out the Death Eaters--which was easier than I expected--and declared myself one of them. Want to see the Mark?" She was referring to the Dark Mark, branded into the arm of each of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. "It's only a shame I didn't get a chance to meet with Voldemort himself. He was in Albania then-- or what was left of him. Then, about a year ago, my eyes turned like this. I figured he'd found a way to come back to life, and I showed it, being as I'm the last of his blood."  
  
McGonagall was livid. "How can you be so calm, having betrayed this school!"  
  
"Betrayed? I didn't lie in my application to teach here; when I was in Canada, I'd done all that I said I did. And I didn't lie to the students here, either. I told them there's a war on, and there is. It starts tonight."  
  
Snape was out of his chair, standing over Hawksaw trembling with rage. "What do you mean? What happens tonight?"  
  
"You'll find out later, when the elemental spell I've cast around Hogwarts has died down."  
  
McGonagall and Snape looked out Dumbledore's window; they saw nothing amiss. "Nobody can enchant the Hogwarts grounds."  
  
"I know that," Hawksaw replied. "The enchantment is beyond the grounds, to keep anyone entering or leaving Hogwarts in the usual way. It will exhaust itself by dawn, and exhaust me as well. By then, the Death Eaters will have left a little token for you in Hogsmeade."  
  
Snape angrily drew his wand and pointed it at Hawksaw. She was instantly bound to her chair and gagged.  
  
"There was no need for that, Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "You heard her; she put so much of herself into the elemental spell that she'll be dead by morning. Minerva, please go onto the grounds and try to determine the extent of the spell, although I suppose it's rather a strong one. It's fueled by three generations of hatred."  
  
As McGonagall left the office, Ron slipped out too. Harry needed to know about all this.  
  
...to be continued... 


	14. Dogfight

WIZARDS DUEL  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.14: Dogfight  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JK Rowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it...]  
  
Nobody at Hogwarts knew who the Seeker would be. The international students would be arriving the next day, and Madam Hooch still had not made the announcement.  
  
One thing was certain: it was between Harry and Cho. Goldstein of Hufflepuff was the least experienced, and Draco Malfoy... he had talent enough to be a better-than-average Seeker. The trouble was, this was his fourth year as a Seeker for Slytherin, and in that time he'd committed just about every foul in the rulebook and was well on the way to inventing new ones. He wasn't the best example Hogwarts could set.  
  
Harry and Cho weren't just the best Seekers; they were both so skilled and talented that there was no choosing between them. Cho's jump up off of her broom in the first game of the year, and Harry's precise dive into the stands against Hufflepuff, were moves that even professional Seekers would come to admire. They were pleasant, they were popular, and either would be a stellar Seeker for Hogwarts.  
  
With their classes over on this Friday afternoon, Harry and Cho decided to try testing each other. With the permission of Madam Hooch (yet another member of the faculty who--unlike Professor McGonagall--was delighted by the Harry-Cho romance), they had taken the Quidditch equipment to the stadium and were going all-out chasing the Snitch. No Bludgers, no crowd. They also had no idea of what was happening beyond the stadium.  
  
"OY HARRY!!"  
  
He made a hairpin turn on his broom and looked at the field. Ron was there; he and Hermione were both out of breath, as if they'd just run flat-out from the castle. He landed by them.  
  
"Hawksaw. Trouble. Hogsmeade." Ron couldn't catch more of a breath; he could only gasp out single words.  
  
Hermione gave Ron a shove. "If you were going to drag me out of the library, you might have told me the story first. This is taking forever."  
  
"Hawksaw is Youknowwho's granddaughter!" Ron blurted out.  
  
"You're loopy," Harry blurted out. "Dumbledore would never hire someone from Voldemort's family."  
  
"She just admitted it. And STOP SAYING THAT!"  
  
Cho landed next to the three. At the mention of Lord Voldemort, fear came to her eyes.  
  
"I knew there was something rotten about her. What was Dumbledore thinking?!" Hermione asked.  
  
"Nobody knew; she grew up in Canada under another name. But there's worse. She said she put a spell around Hogwarts, so we can't get out, and some Death Eaters are gonna attack Hogsmeade tonight!"  
  
They all looked up; the sky seemed normal.  
  
"I'll see if I can tell anything." No sooner had Cho said this than she was on her broom, up and out of the stadium.  
  
"Was there anything else?" Harry asked.  
  
"Nah, I think that's it. But she said the spell would end by morning, and then she'd die."  
  
Cho had flown out of sight. Harry went up to look for her. She was flying in the direction of Hogsmeade. Just as she was about to fly beyond the forest and off of the grounds, she was pushed off to the side, as if she was swatted away by a gigantic hand. She lost her grip on the broom and fell toward the trees.  
  
Harry shot toward her, covering the distance in no time. He grabbed one of Cho's hands; the other grabbed Harry's broom. The next minute was a struggle to control Harry's Firebolt, suddenly burdened with two passengers. It was a job to keep them from crashing, but Harry brought them in for a fairly smooth landing. They found Cho's broom and returned to the stadium. Ron and Hermione were waiting for them outside.  
  
"What happened?" Ron asked.  
  
"You don't even know it's there until you're right up against it," Cho said. "Then the wind picks up. Very violent. Nobody could fly in that."  
  
"Makes sense," Harry nodded. "There won't even be any owls in or out until tomorrow."  
  
"Then how did SHE do it?" Hermione asked. "It wasn't as if she could stand at the gate and duck through her own spell. Ron, do you remember exactly what she said?"  
  
"She said she'd stopped people from entering or leaving in the usual way. That means the lake, the station..."  
  
"But not the tunnel!" Harry shouted. "She must have known about the tunnel! She cast the spell, then came back underground!"  
  
"That's what she must have done," Hermione nodded. "Should we go and tell the teachers?"  
  
"What's the point?" Ron almost shouted. "She told it all to Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape! They're not idiots; they must have figured it out by now."  
  
"Then where are they?" Harry asked. "I don't see them heading for the Whomping Willow. If we go now, though, we may be able to stop them."  
  
"Stop them from what? Hogsmeade is full of wizards. They can handle the Death Eaters, can't they?"  
  
"That's not what this is about," Cho spoke up. Everyone turned to her. "I've been working on a paper on the Death Eaters for Hawksaw's class, of all people. Last time, they started small, then built power gradually. They never picked a fight that they couldn't win. They don't want to take over Hogsmeade; they want to terrorize it. Burn down some buildings, maybe kill a wizard or two. It'll be bad enough, but not as bad as it could be."  
  
"What's the point?" Hermione asked.  
  
"The Dark Lord is throwing down the gauntlet, challenging Dumbledore. I've studied him as well, and the headmaster seems to be a shadow Minister of Magic when the real Ministry doesn't do the right thing. The Dark Lord hopes to draw Dumbledore out, then bring him down."  
  
"And think what a picture it'll be in the morning, when the international students arrive," Hermione added. "Even if there's only a little actual damage to Hogsmeade, it would be a reflection on Hogwarts. Dumbledore would probably have to step down."  
  
"Then we've got to do something. Ron, Hermione, you'd better go back and get brooms. You have your wands, right?" They nodded. "Cho and I will take the tunnel now. If you don't see us at the shack, look for Snuffles." The other two dashed off.  
  
Cho was totally confused. "What's all this about a tunnel? And what does the Willow have to do with it?"  
  
"I'll show you in a moment." Harry just remembered he'd pocketed the Snitch when their practice was interrupted. He started to put it back in the box with the other Quidditch balls; then he stopped.  
  
"We both know you're a great Seeker, Cho; want to try being a Beater?"  
  
* *  
  
A minute later, Harry had used his broom to open the door in the Whomping Willow. He and Cho went down the tunnel as fast as they could, considering they were carrying between them the chest of Quidditch equipment as well as Harry carrying both their brooms while Cho's wand lit the way.  
  
Harry was finally explaining everything to Cho. ".so his friends built a tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, where he could be a werewolf without harming anyone. My dad was one of his friends."  
  
"But that's a nice story. Why haven't you told me before?"  
  
"Because of one of my dad's other friends. He's my godfather, and was best man at my parents' wedding." Harry stopped a moment. "His name is Sirius Black."  
  
"The murderer from Azkaban?!"  
  
"Not a murderer! Everyone got it wrong. Pettigrew wasn't killed along with the Muggles; he killed them, then faked his own death and put the blame on Sirius. Pettigrew had already gone over to Voldemort."  
  
"Let me guess; Sirius Black is another Animagus?"  
  
"He's Snuffles; a dog. He was also nicknamed Padfoot." Cho was silent, and even in the dim light of their wands Harry could see a sour expression on Cho's face. "You believe me, don't you?"  
  
"Of course I do. I'm just going to have to go back and rewrite my paper, is all."  
  
* *  
  
Just as Harry and Cho came up into the Shrieking Shack, Ron and Hermione were racing down the lawn toward the Whomping Willow. They skidded to a stop, though, when they saw the tree. Someone was already there; someone who had touched the spot that stopped the tree from attacking and was climbing down into the tunnel: Severus Snape. He looked at the two, glowering as if to say, "Don't dare follow me." Then he was gone.  
  
Ron threw his broom down onto the lawn. "BLOODY HELL!!"  
  
* *  
  
It was the last hour of daylight, with clear skies and a spectacular sunset in the west. It took one's eyes away from the east, where three figures flew toward Hogsmeade at high speed.  
  
Harry and Cho ran to the edge of town, where they saw a great black dog galloping over the field. The dog stopped when he saw the two young people.  
  
"It's all right!" Harry yelled. "She knows!"  
  
The dog ran to Harry and immediately turned into Sirius Black. "What are you doing here?!"  
  
"Them!" Harry pointed at the three wizards who had just flown above them, and started raining fire down on Hogsmeade.  
  
"You're taking them on?!"  
  
"No, you are." Harry took his wand and handed it to Sirius. "We'll keep them occupied, so you can drive them off."  
  
"What, by myself?"  
  
"No, with him!" Cho pointed at the Shrieking Shack. Snape had just come out the door and was running toward Sirius, Harry and Cho, wand at the ready.  
  
"Whatever you're going to do, do it now," Sirius said.  
  
Harry opened the box. He and Cho each grabbed a Bludger and a club, then took off toward the Death Eaters.  
  
"Mad, the both of them," Sirius muttered, as he started casting impediment spells at the Death Eaters. By this time the people of Hogsmeade were aware of what was happening, but they were busy putting out the fires.  
  
"STOP RIGHT THERE!" Snape yelled at Sirius.  
  
"Use your eyes, man; I'm trying to stop them! Are you going to help me or not?"  
  
Snape took a moment to size up the situation, drew his hood over his face, and also started attacking the Death Eaters.  
  
This proved easier than they thought, because Harry and Cho were circling the Death Eaters, hitting Bludgers at them from all sides. They were fast, small, moving targets, and every second of distraction they were to the Death Eaters was one less fiery attack on Hogsmeade.  
  
As he flew, slamming the Bludgers as ferociously as he could, Harry realized he recognized all three attackers from last year, when Lord Voldemort was revived. Two of them were the fathers of Crabbe and Goyle, and they looked and acted no less brutish than their sons. The third was Walden McNair, from the Ministry of Magic, who had come to Hogwarts two years earlier to execute the hippogriff Buckbeak. Harry found he enjoyed catching McNair with a Bludger right to the side of his head.  
  
This made McNair furious enough to break off the attack and take off after Harry at top speed. Harry could outrun him-the Firebolt could outrun anything-but that wasn't the idea. Instead, Harry took off straight up, a vertical climb that wavered a bit from side to side to dodge the hexes McNair was throwing at him. He must have climbed over two hundred feet before he stopped dead. He seemed to be waiting for McNair to catch up. As McNair approached, Harry suddenly went into a dive, brushing right past McNair, who turned and followed him.  
  
McNair hadn't noticed that Harry was leading him straight to Sirius Black- until Sirius cast a disruption spell at McNair's broom. The broom split up the middle, and suddenly it was all McNair could do to keep flying steady.  
  
Cho used a similar trick on Crabbe and Goyle. While the Bludgers were doing their work, she drew her wand and shouted "Turbulens!" The sky grew restless, as eddies and currents threatened to throw the two off of their brooms. Snape cast hexes at the pair, setting their brooms on fire.  
  
As suddenly as it began, the attack ended. The Death Eaters couldn't attack and defend themselves at the same time. At a signal from McNair, they broke off and sped back over the eastern hills.  
  
An ecstatic Cho Chang sailed to Harry's side. "We did it, Harry! They're gone!"  
  
"Gone for reinforcements, more like."  
  
Cho shook her head. "They lost the element of surprise. They know every wizard in Hogsmeade will be waiting for them. It's over."  
  
They hadn't yet figured out how to hug each other or kiss while on separate brooms, so Harry just clasped Cho's hand in his. Then they went back to Sirius and Snape.  
  
What they found was Snape with his wand pointed at Sirius Black.  
  
"What are you doing?!" an outraged Harry shouted at Snape. "He just helped save Hogsmeade!"  
  
"A fact which I'm sure his keepers in Azkaban will take under consideration. The rest of the world doesn't share your high opinion of this escaped murderer."  
  
Sirius spoke up; "Don't mind him, Harry. He's just tired of being a teacher; wants to work for the Ministry."  
  
"Whatever benefits I derive from the arrest of Sirius Black will be as nothing, considering what I have to say about you." He kept the wand pointed at Sirius, but looked at Harry. "Caught out of bounds, with stolen school property; serious penalties would be meted out to other students, but for the great Harry Potter those are good for a day or two of detention. But you gave your wand to Sirius Black, didn't you? That's a very serious violation of the law; so serious that you may have just earned yourself a cell right next to your beloved godfather."  
  
Harry felt his mouth go dry. Snape was right about breaking the law; but would he be able to convince a jury that Sirius was innocent?  
  
He looked over at Cho. Her face was filled with anger, she clenched her hands into fists, and Harry noticed that her knees were bent; her weight was on the balls of her feet.  
  
"CHO!! DON'T!!"  
  
Too late. Snape looked at Harry, then back at Cho-except that she wasn't there. She had leapt straight up-it must have been a good fifteen feet-and landed behind Snape. As he turned to her, he barely had time to see Cho swing her leg out in a pivot kick that caught Snape square in the forehead. He fell to the ground, moaning.  
  
Cho bit her lip, then looked at Harry. "Run; the two of you. He'll come around in a second."  
  
"But what are you planning."  
  
"GO!"  
  
"Harry, she's right," Sirius said. "We can't stay here; either of us."  
  
Harry allowed himself to be pushed by Sirius toward the hills, all the time looking back over his shoulder at Cho.  
  
.to be continued. 


	15. Going Home

DUEL, part 15  
  
Fanfic by Patrick Drazen  
  
a/k/a Monkeymouse  
  
1.15: Going Home  
  
[If you found your way this far, you don't need me to tell you that JKRowling created the Potterverse, and is still creating it...]  
  
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his fingertips together, looking weary and very displeased at what was happening.  
  
Cho Chang sat in a hardbacked chair in the center of the floor, staring straight ahead, saying nothing.  
  
Severus Snape paced back and forth in Dumbledore's office, seething with an anger born of frustration.  
  
"You were there! You saw it! Admit it!"  
  
Cho Chang stared straight ahead. In a level voice without emotion she said, "I have nothing to say about that."  
  
"Enough, Severus," sighed Dumbledore; "this borders on abuse."  
  
"This is a criminal matter!"  
  
"She's already confessed to assaulting you. You don't need more than that."  
  
"I need her to confirm that Sirius Black was there; that Harry Potter gave Black his wand!"  
  
"That's true, I suppose. You DO need Miss Chang to confirm it, because there is no evidence apart from your word on it."  
  
"For the last time, before I send for an Auror: admit that you saw Sirius Black!"  
  
Cho Chang stared straight ahead. In a level voice without emotion she said, "I have nothing to say about that."  
  
"It occurs to me," Dumbledore said, "that you may well have three corroborative witnesses without Miss Chang."  
  
"I spoke to nobody in Hogsmeade until after I was attacked."  
  
"I am referring to the Death Eaters. Any of the three you named would be eager, I think, to place Harry Potter in Azkaban."  
  
Snape seethed at this. "You know perfectly well that I didn't show my face to them; that I couldn't. Besides, they aren't about to come forward and admit they were the attackers."  
  
"Then I see no hope for it but to let that matter drop. Even though many among us wish to see Sirius Black returned to his prison cell, we can't do so without evidence.  
  
"In the meanwhile, there is the matter of Miss Cho Chang." He rose slowly from his desk and walked around, to stand before the seated student. "You have admitted to assaulting Professor Snape. Even if being out of the school grounds with unauthorized school equipment might be forgivable, this is not. On the other hand, you were in Hogsmeade performing heroic service in a battle against the Death Eaters. I cannot decide your fate unless I consider all of these consequences.  
  
"One decision is clear, however. Miss Chang, you will not be permitted to play in the international student Quidditch tournament this weekend. And, as Mister Harry Potter seems to have gone missing, the choice is clear. I will tell Madam Hooch that Mister Draco Malfoy will be Seeker for Hogwarts, by default. Professor Snape, as Head of Slytherin House, you may wish to go and bear Mister Malfoy the glad tidings."  
  
Snape was still clearly dissatisfied, but cast a last angry glare at Cho and left the office.  
  
Dumbledore pulled up a chair and sat across from Cho. "I like to think that you now know a bit of what it's like being me," the headmaster smiled. "All day long, every day, I'm faced with undesirable choices, as I'm sure you were last night. Perhaps now, with Professor Snape out of the room, you would be willing to tell me if what he says is true. If there is anything that might be considered on your behalf, I would like to hear it."  
  
Cho's steely resolve cracked for a moment. She seemed to want to talk to Dumbledore, because he seemed to want to listen to her. But it only lasted a moment. "I was in Hogsmeade when I should have been on the grounds. I was there with school Quidditch equipment. I attacked Professor Snape. Beyond that, I ... I have nothing to say."  
  
* *  
  
That afternoon, Harry and Sirius sat in the cave, looking out over open fields and the distant town of Hogsmeade.  
  
"I wish there was something we could do about McNair," Harry said for the tenth time that day. "He's in the Ministry; who knows what he'll do?"  
  
"I've been thinking about that," Sirius said as he wolfed down a sandwich. He'd been without a wand since his arrest over a dozen years before; now, with Harry's wand, he seemed to be making up for as many lost meals as he could. "Crabbe and Goyle are drones; they'll do what they're told. McNair is a shrewder customer, but he's hardly a genius. I don't think the attack last night was his idea, and I doubt that Voldemort was anywhere in the area, either. It's too much of a risk. Besides, that scar would have given him away."  
  
"Whose idea was it, then?"  
  
"I don't know, but I smell the hand of Lucius Malfoy in all this."  
  
Harry had already had dealings with the father of Draco Malfoy. The head of a wealthy and influential wizarding family, and a former member of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy was also a Death Eater. Harry had seen him the year before, in the cemetery where Lord Voldemort was restored to a human body.  
  
"It's damned inconvenient not being able to show my face," Sirius went on. "If it were possible, I'd be out trying to unmask the Death Eaters, and Lucius Malfoy would be the first on my list. I would love to show him for what he really is."  
  
There was a noise of sliding gravel from outside the cave. Sirius ducked back behind a rock, while Harry went to the mouth of the cave to check. He signaled that it was safe, and a second later Ron and Hermione were in the cave.  
  
"Sorry we couldn't lend a hand yesterday," Ron said, "but Snape got to the tree before we could."  
  
"That can wait!" Hermione said impatiently. She turned to Harry, with a look of sadness. "Harry, we've got bad news about Cho."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"She's been expelled; thrown out of Hogwarts."  
  
"After last night? How could Dumbledore do that?!"  
  
"Because of last night, they're not calling it an expulsion," Ron added. "For the record, she's transferring to that school in Japan. She's been in Ravenclaw packing all day, not speaking to anybody."  
  
"Her family just Apparated from London," Hermione went on. "They'll be spending the night in Hogsmeade, then they're all going back in the morning."  
  
"But if Cho's been in Ravenclaw all this time, how did you find out?"  
  
"Moaning Myrtle," Hermione said. "She was hiding in Dumbledore's office and heard the whole thing."  
  
"By the way," Ron put in, "she has her old name back. She was moaning to break the mirrors. Hermione heard the racket and went into the toilet to talk to her; that's how we found out."  
  
"Well, I knew Myrtle was pleased when Cho gave her that dress..."  
  
"Harry," Hermione said, "Cho's friendship has meant a great deal to a great many people at Hogwarts--more than you'll ever know. I can imagine what you're thinking, but just remember: you're not alone. We'd better get back now."  
  
Ron and Hermione made their way down to the fields as Harry watched, seemingly lost in thought.  
  
"I'm sorry about all that, Harry..." Sirius began.  
  
Harry turned suddenly. "Sirius, I'll never ask another favour of you, but I have to ask this..."  
  
"Stop right there. I know what you're going to say, Harry, but you know I can't do that. It's impossible."  
  
"Remember me, Sirius? Voldemort tried to kill me and failed--twice, now. I'm supposed to be impossible. What's one more impossibility? All I know is that you had three years to learn it, and I've only got one night. Are you going to help me?"  
  
* *  
  
It was just at dawn the next morning that Cho Chang left Hogwarts. Apart from Dumbledore, who would walk her to Hogsmeade, the only one there to bid her goodbye was The Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's resident ghost. She stood on the stone steps, silent, but with a sad look on her face that spoke all to clearly.  
  
They walked in silence to Hogsmeade, where they met Cho's family at the Three Broomsticks: her mother and father, and the mother of Cho's mother, who Cho spoke of to Harry as Granny Li. No sooner had they placed their breakfast orders when Cho's mother started angrily scolding her daughter in Chinese. Cho answered back, just as angrily, also in Chinese.  
  
Dumbledore held up his hands: "Ba ba." Cho and her mother stared at Dumbledore, while Granny Li chuckled.  
  
When the meal was done, they walked down Hogsmeade's main street, toward the field at the edge of town where they would Disapparate and return to London. Cho's father, who for years had called himself James Arthur Chang, wore a carefully tailored suit and had a carefully trimmed mustache. Even though he was a Chinese wizard, he seemed very like Harry's Uncle Vernon. He also seemed rather uncomfortable about being in Hogsmeade.  
  
"I suppose you'd call me a city boy," he was saying, "but I guess it comes of living in places with at least three million people. I could never get used to this country life. Just look at that!" he said, pointing to an open field; "the wild animals aren't even afraid. They just wander into town."  
  
They all looked into the field. Fifty yards away stood a magnificent stag, with a large black dog by his side.  
  
"I have to go to him," Cho announced, and started walking across the field.  
  
"Cho!" her mother called.  
  
Dumbledore held up his hand. "I think that she needs to do this."  
  
Cho wasn't completely sure until she got within ten yards of the stag; then, she broke into a run. She knew that no stag ever born could possibly have such bright green eyes.  
  
She threw her arms around the stag's neck, burying her face in his glossy coat. "I knew you'd come to me," she said, "I knew it."  
  
She turned to the dog. "I'm sorry we were never properly introduced, Mister Black, but would you leave Harry and me alone for a while? I promise to keep your secret." The dog turned and trotted back toward the hills.  
  
Cho brought her hands up to hold the stag's head. "You're here, so I guess you know. I don't know how long I'll be in London before they send me to Japan. I don't even know if they'll let me come home this summer. But, please, don't come to Diagon Alley looking for me. My parents hate you right now; they want to put a Confundus charm around the house, so that you'd never find it.  
  
"Oh, one good thing came of all this. Andy called off the engagement. He sent me a note, of course; typical. He said he can't stand the shame and embarrassment. Just between us, I think he's afraid I'll give him what I gave Snape."  
  
Tears started to fall from the stag's eyes. Cho again hugged the stag around its neck. "Oh, Harry, my love, please don't be sad at the way things have turned out, because I'm not. I'll be out of school in one more year, and you in a year after that. Then you and I can be together, and we can do all the things we've dreamed of, without teachers or parents or anyone to stop us.  
  
"They must think I'm crazy," she said, speaking of her family waiting by the road. "Let them. I don't care about anything but you. I'll write to you; I'll keep in touch somehow. We'll find a way."  
  
She opened the top of her robes, enough to show that she still wore the necklace. "Until the day I die," she smiled, as she gave the stag one final hug, rubbing her hands along its back. As she turned to her family, the stag spun and galloped toward the hills.  
  
* *  
  
Harry spent the rest of the day just sitting by the mouth of the cave. He didn't say much of anything, not even when Ron snuck out to tell him about the tournament.  
  
"The Americans knocked us right out of the running. It was all Draco's doing, really. He kept fouling the other side's Seeker, and I guess Americans aren't as patient about that sort of thing. Forget about Bludgers; they put the elbow in every chance they got. He got it in the ribs, the back, even the face. After a while he was missing easy chances at the Snitch; probably too punchy to remember his own name."  
  
"How's the rest of it?"  
  
"Well, a lot of people are still trying to find out why Cho had to leave so suddenly. The rumours are everywhere. By the way: congratulations, Harry, you're a father."  
  
Harry turned his head so suddenly his glasses flew off.  
  
"Just another rumour," Ron hastily added. "Someone said you'd got Cho in a family way. Someone else said that her father's business went bust and she has to scrub floors or something. The rumours just get wilder and wilder. Give it a few days and it'll all settle down."  
  
"What about Hawksaw?"  
  
"Would you believe it, Hawksaw's death hasn't been announced yet. They probably won't until after the other teams have gone. I expect Harry can come back then. I trust Dumbledore to get it all sorted out."  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
"Let's say that the odd piece of mail from the Ministry falls into my lap now and again."  
  
After Ron had gone, Harry was still sitting moodily by the mouth of the cave.  
  
"It should have been me. I should have punched Snape, so she could help you. Then she wouldn't be in trouble on her own."  
  
"How was she supposed to help me, Harry? Even if she knows the truth, to the rest of the world I'm still an escaped murderer."  
  
"She could have got you away, somehow. She knows things no wizard ever saw before. She's brilliant. We were in this Quidditch match..."  
  
"Stop it, Harry!" Sirius shouted as he spun Harry around and looked him in the face. He went on in a softer voice. "Don't do this to yourself. It's over now, and she's gone."  
  
Harry pulled himself loose and walked to the cave mouth, staring out over the field toward Hogsmeade. "It's not over. I'll find her again someday."  
  
"I've no doubt you will," Sirius sighed, "but you have to move on to other things now, more important things. I don't have to tell you we'll need all your strength. By all means, hold your love for her in your heart if it makes you stronger; otherwise, let it go."  
  
They were both standing at the cave mouth now. A thin wisp of smoke was rising from Hogsmeade.  
  
"Sirius, I don't suppose that was as bad as it's going to get?"  
  
"Harry, that was just the distant thunder. The real storm will be breaking soon."  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
The year ended in a mostly predictable manner. The fifth-year students took their Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Hermione Granger, of course got perfect marks. Ron Weasley, surprisingly, got slightly better marks than Harry, although both still had respectable enough OWLs.  
  
In remembrance of Megan Hawksaw, all Dark Arts classes were canceled for the rest of the year, including the final exams. Ron decided to greet this news by starting a petition to have Snape named Dark Arts teacher next year.  
  
"They're all cursed, aren't they," he'd say. "Now we've had one actually die on us! If Snape wants the post so much, I say let him have it! We could finally be rid of the sorry old git." After about a week, Ron dismissed his own petition as just a lark; he had other things to worry about.  
  
The House Quidditch Cup was a mad scramble, with Hufflepuff on the bottom and the other three Houses in a virtual tie. Ravenclaw, however, had lost its Seeker, Gryffindor's Seeker was off his game, and the play of Slytherin's Seeker got worse and worse as the year went on. It all came down to the last game, which Gryffindor won against Slytherin, although barely.  
  
Harry was glad for the win, of course, but not just because it was another chance to get the best of Draco Malfoy. It meant that Angelina Johnson would graduate having been Captain of a winning team. He knew how much it meant to Oliver Wood two years ago, when he was in his last year, and, even though Angelina tried not to show it, he knew she was happier than anyone in Hogwarts.  
  
While Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, it did not win the House competition. This year, the parting dinner in the Great Hall had no decorations at all. This infuriated Slytherin, which was technically in the lead. Gryffindor wasn't too enthusiastic about it, either, since they were just a handful of points behind Slytherin. Dumbledore, as was his habit, would probably add points at the end of the year for one thing or another. The students all knew that the points were so close that Dumbledore could send it either way.  
  
Dumbledore rose this time with every eye upon him. "As a great writer once said, 'Stand with me here upon the terrace, and let us remember absent friends.' While this hall hardly qualifies as a terrace, I stand to remember one student and one faculty member.  
  
"You will no doubt recall the sudden death of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Megan Hawksaw, this past spring. Hardly any of us knew much about her past or her teaching methods, but she taught us a great deal this year; perhaps more than she intended to teach.  
  
"You will all, of course, recall her essential philosophy of life: to trust no one. This may in fact be a necessary way of life for some professions. Those of us in the wizarding world, however, embrace that belief at our peril. Mistrust, after all, breeds isolation, and in that state of isolation facts get twisted and beliefs are turned inside out and topsy- turvy. We may lock ourselves in our rooms and whitewash the walls. However, unless we venture out of those rooms once in a while, we have no way of knowing what color the walls really are. We may have been sold red paint and been told by the salesman that it's whitewash, but the remedy is not to mistrust the salesman.  
  
"I look about this hall, and I am proud beyond words that we do not mistrust our differences, but rather embrace them. I speak academically, of course, for in this academy disciplines as diverse as numerology and herbology, divination and dragon-taming coexist for the betterment of the students. And the students themselves are equally diverse. Some Muggles might say that this land of Arthur Pendragon and Richard Lionheart has changed too much from the ancient days of glory. I thoroughly disagree. It does my heart good to see you all. We hardly needed a Quidditch match to experience life from far-flung parts of the globe.  
  
"Which brings me at last to our absent student. One did not have to be a resident of Ravenclaw House to have had experience of Cho Chang. She was a superior student, a skillful Quidditch player and by many accounts an excellent friend. Before family matters called her away, she was also-- according to the reports I've heard--the only student here astute enough to anticipate what has already become known as the Battle of Hogsmeade, and courageous enough to stand with the town as it defended itself against the Death Eaters."  
  
Ron started to tell Harry it was a shame that nobody knew about his role in that battle. Harry silenced him by pointing out Snape, who was infuriated by these remarks but kept himself restrained. After all, Harry thought, Snape can't let his part in the fight become public knowledge, either.  
  
"Therefore, in remembering Cho Chang, her gallantry, and her dedication to friendship above mistrust, I am pleased to award Ravenclaw House sixty points."  
  
Blue Ravenclaw banners sprung out all over the hall. The Ravenclaw table exploded with wild cheering; they hadn't won the Cup in years. Ron wanted to tell Harry to protest; he was there, too, after all. Harry, however, wasn't cheering; he was sitting at the table, his head in one hand, his eyes closed. He seemed to be in the midst of a very pleasant dream.  
  
"Trust you to be happy about losing," Ron muttered.  
  
* *  
  
They piled onto the Hogwarts Express the next day for the return to London and the beginning of summer vacation. Harry rushed to claim the compartment where he and Cho had first wept together, first held each other close, first kissed. He planted himself by the window and would not be drawn into conversation with his friends until the train pulled out of sight of Hogwarts.  
  
"Forgive me for saying this," Hermione spoke up, "but all this mooning about after her--is it really necessary? You've practically ignored us all year!"  
  
"He's got reasons," Ron said. Then he turned to Harry: "Show it to her, then."  
  
Harry reached into his trunk. The box that Cho had given him for Christmas was right on top. He gave it to Ron, who gave it to Hermione. She opened it, and the globe blossomed out of the box, with its model mountain and miniature Chinese Fireballs.  
  
Hermione was struck silent; all she could say was "Oh!" as she stared at the globe. After a minute, she turned back to Harry; her eyes had the beginning of tears in them. "Oh Harry," she sighed, "if she cared for you enough to give you this, well, it's just wrong for you to be sorrowing after her. That's not what she wants, for you to waste away to nothing."  
  
"She's right, as usual," Ron said, "'cause if you do that, then we'd be stuck with two of you. Moaning Myrtle and Howling Harry, haunting the Hogwarts toilets 'til the end of time."  
  
Harry couldn't help himself; he started to laugh, and so did Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Have one, then," Ron said as he tossed a Chocolate Frog at Harry. "Good for what ails ya."  
  
As he unwrapped the chocolate, Harry remembered Cho's last words to him. She was right. Two years wouldn't be so long to wait, and in the meantime surely they would find a way to keep in touch. Their love wasn't over yet-- not by a long shot.  
  
to be continued in "WIZARDS DUEL: A SUMMER PLACE"  
  
--  
  
A/N: The line "Stand with me here upon the terrace..." comes from "His Last Bow", one of the Sherlock Holmes stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.  
  
While most of the characters, places etc. for this story are taken from the Harry Potter universe created by JK Rowling, this particular story-arc's plot was inspired by the behavior of certain American citizens and government officials in the aftermath of September 11, 2001. Too many people have rushed to embrace suspicion, isolation and war. These will kill us--perhaps not as quickly as a bomb, but just as thoroughly. 


End file.
